


Funtimes in Hell Café

by Miki_and_company



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coffee Shops, Drinking, Fighting, M/M, Slow Burn, Witch Allura, Worldbuilding, action mystery gothic, ghostbusting, im feelin this fic, implied sex, it's a bit crazy but just trust me, klance, lance is oblivious, one night stand to rivals to friends to lovers, supernatural shit, the most plot-heavy slow burn coffee shop au youve ever read, vampire keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-07 22:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12241725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miki_and_company/pseuds/Miki_and_company
Summary: It could have been a normal evening for Lance, but somehow, without him even knowing it, the stars had aligned for disaster.(Or How to Survive an unfortunate one-night-stand with a vampire)





	1. Gimme Gimme Gimme (a man after midnight)

All year round, the Altea café soaked in a peaceful and homely feeling, like any self-respecting café would. Though it rarely provided as sharp a contrast with the outside world than it did during the dark and cold November nights. Open until the late hours, it had a downright _magical_ aura to it.

It wasn’t because of that that Lance enjoyed going there, though. As much as he liked the atmosphere, he was the kind of guy who could find the magic just fine from inside a McDonald’s. He went to buy his morning coffee there in part because that’s where his friend Hunk worked the day shift, and in part because in terms of _lovely,_ one couldn’t get much better than the magnetic co-owner of the Altea café.

Because Hunk only worked the day shift, it had never really occurred to Lance to go to that café anytime past two in the afternoon, but for some reason, the boredom had gotten the best of him tonight, and he had nothing better to do than to come and hang out here.

\---

Allura had seen Lance before he had made the little bell from the door ring with his presence. She hadn’t expected him at that time of the evening, but it didn’t stop her from reacting instantly. She called up Keith to the register. The boy was coming back from delivering a hot chocolate to some patron, and she just shoved him behind the counter.

“I have to go get something, will you take care of the register for a minute?”

“I, uh, okay,” Keith said, still holding the tray under his arm.

She then rushed through the beaded curtain to the employee lounge, unlocked the door to the staircase to her apartment, went into her room and shuffled around a bit.

She’d found a spell not too long ago, a potion recipe which for once seemed to have useful applications into her daily life. She had made it, but had lacked until today the opportunity to test it really, and Lance was just the perfect candidate for that. She had grown tired of politely turning down his constant advances, and this just ought to make him forget about her without harsh feelings. She was pretty proud of it.

\---

Before Keith really had the time to react to Allura’s quick escape, he was faced with a customer. The young student-type, nothing especially unusual about it, except maybe that he was quite attractive.

“Can I get you anything?” Keith asked, forgetting as usual a proper greeting.

“Hi,” the guy said.

“…Hi,” Keith answered.

There was a brief silence as he considered the chalkboard menu behind Keith.

“I don’t know, actually,” the customer said. “I usually get a coffee, but it’s a bit late for that I suppose. Do you make decaf mocha?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugged. “For here or to go?”

“For here.”

“That’ll be 3.45$”

The boy put down a handful of change—the exact amount—on the counter. Keith picked it up.

“You can go sit down, then, I’ll bring it to you in a minute.”

The patron did just that. Keith started to make his order.

As he was about to put the mocha on his tray and bring it to the boy, Allura came out of the employee lounge and stopped him.

“Keith, wait,” she said in an imperative whisper.

“What?”

“Is that for Lance?”

“Who?”

“The boy sitting over there by the window.”

Keith lift up his head to see she was talking about the guy who had ordered the mocha.

“yeah,” he said.

“Great.”

She took out of her pocket a vial filled with some syrup-looking liquid which she poured into Lance’s mocha.

“What’s that for?” Keith asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Allura smiled. “You know how I test some spells on my regular patrons sometimes.”

She did. Benign spells that couldn’t really be traced back to her. A sleeping spell for a patron complaining from insomnia, a subtle hair growth spell on a patron who disliked their last haircut, that kind of thing. Keith…didn’t care for it all that much. It allowed him to keep his job, since many patrons had nicknamed the place “The good luck café”, but he had as a policy to not get involved with what didn’t concern him. So, he picked up his tray with a shrug and brought it over to Lance.

\--

Lance noticed Allura behind the counter and waved to her. She waved back politely, but she then walked away to some other occupation.

Lance was disappointed, he wished he could have talked with her a bit, since she happened to be around…he desperately needed some company right now.

The waiter who took his order earlier came to him.

“Are you new?” Lance asked. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve been working here for three years.”

Lance’s eyes grew wide.

“How come I’ve never heard of you? I know everyone here! Hunk is my best friend!”

“Hm-hm,” the black-haired waiter said, placing the mug on the table.

“He’s a great guy, got to know him at school, you know? It’s a shame we never get to go out in the evening, he’s always busy it seems, I guess he’s just not much of a night owl.”

“Maybe he just turns into a horrible corpse-eating zombie werewolf monster at night,” the guy deadpanned.

Lance laughed.

“Yeah, I bet,” he said, finally taking his mug between his hands. “I think I like you,” he added after taking a sip.

The waiter had a faint smile.

“Enjoy your drink,” he told Lance, before walking away from the small table.

Say, this drink was pretty good…Lance felt himself relax into his ridiculously soft couch, almost feeling as though he had drank quite a few…

His mind wandered towards pleasant things, the warmth of his chair, his mother’s hugs, the smell of rainy days, the cute new waiter’s smile, singe watching Brooklyn nine nine, sex, that kind of things. He didn’t know how he managed to think of all of them at once, but he did, and he had a sudden drive to indulge into as many of them as he could. Despite this drive, not a single muscle in his body even as much as twitched to move up, this drive manifested more as a thing of the mind—a warm pit in his stomach—than anything else. There was two him in this instant, one who acted normally and leaned back in his chair patiently, and one who daydreamed and was willing to embark on any journey, and for once in his life, the two balanced each other out and went along perfectly.

\--

When the clock had hit ten o’clock, Keith had turned the sign in the door from “open” to “close”, and the café had been steadily emptying since then. As he cleaned the tables, Keith kept looking up to look at Lance, who had been blissfully zoning out while sipping his drink for over an hour now. Allura was upstairs, and when Keith texted to enquire her about him, she just texted back that this was normal, that Lance could stay as long as he liked but that Keith could kick him out whenever he wanted to go home.

Though Keith worked at the café six evenings a week, he only worked past ten five days per week, and had nothing better to do tonight. He came up to Lance.

“Is everything good?” He asked.

“Very,” Lance answered, a big dumb smile on his face. “Say, you didn’t tell me your name.”

“I’m Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith. Would you make me the honor of sitting with me?”

“I, uh, okay,” Keith said, sitting down.

Could have Allura’s potion done something to Lance’s personality? He briefly wondered. Then he pushed that thought away, as it was improbable. Allura didn’t play with people’s lucidity, so whatever she gave him, he was being fully himself at the present moment. It could have just been some skin-enhancing potion, or something to treat his neck pain. Whatever it was, it clearly didn’t matter.

Lance smirked playfully.

“Tell me more about yourself, Keith. I want to get to know you.”

Keith brought a hand behind his neck.

“I, I mean…there really isn’t much to say. I’ve been working here in the evenings for three years?”

Lance sighed.

“Are you more of a cat or a dog person?”

“I never really had pets, but I guess cats are okay. Maybe I should get one, one day.”

Lance nodded.

“I figured you were a cat person.”

“How?”

“Magic.”

“You’re a seer?” Keith asked.

Lance laughed. He had a nice laugh, Keith thought.

“I could be. If I was, I would totally use my powers to flirt with people.”

He was playing with the little metal spoon that came with his drink.

“Though if I could be any supernatural creature, I think I’d want to be a mermaid. You know, swim around, lay on rocks, grow my hair, eat sushi, lure sailors to their death. Fun stuff.”

It was Keith’s turn to huff.

“I wanna live in Antlantis. And not just because of princess Kida. Though, also, yes, very much because of her.”

“That’s cool,” Keith said, having no idea what Lance was talking about.

As he was talking, Lance had brought his little spoon up to his mouth, and he was biting it absentmindedly.

He just rambled on for a while, while Keith gave him the occasional comment. Keith had been afraid at first that the conversation would pry too much into his personal life, but it mostly steered towards inane subjects, making him feel safe, like he didn’t have to engage himself emotionally too much. It was a trap, though, because Keith engaged himself emotionally in just about everything he did, and the longer Lance talked, the less he could pry his eyes away from him, the less he could think straight.

Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a while, in silence. Lance had beautiful deep and expressive eyes, that were seeking _something,_ something that Keith could relate to.

He didn’t know how he did it, but Keith snapped out of Lance’s glare eventually.

“I should probably close the shop,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lance answered, his eyes going down, seemingly disappointed.

He put down his little spoon.

“I live nearby,” he said while avoiding looking at Keith. “Just a few blocks up north. I don’t feel like walking up alone, so maybe if you were going that way…”

“I can walk you home,” Keith said.

He finished cleaning up and closing the shop in a record time as Lance waited by the door. They walked out together in the biting cold. Keith could see Lance shiver, and yet he didn’t seem to rush his steps in the slightest, dragging the walk for as long as he could, shooting an occasional smile at Keith.

Over whom a sudden doubt came crushing down. What if Lance invited him in? What if they began doing _things?_

Keith knew this was a possibility, he would have been lying if he said the thought hadn’t occurred at the back of his mind throughout the whole time they were talking back in the café, but it’s just at this instant, when it seemed increasingly likely, that it hit him. He…he couldn’t do that. Not tonight. His levels were too low, and Lance was a human, and he obviously couldn’t get involved with a human, nor could he trust his instincts in a time like this one.

But he wanted it. He’d be disappointed if it didn’t happen, if he had to spend the rest of the night alone at home, probably binge-watching the X-files and moping until sunrise. This, on the other hand, was a little adventure, a little company he had been craving for so long without ever admitting it, not even to himself. Rule number two might have been to not endanger humans, but rule number one was to never let the demons get the best of you. Either way, he would be breaking a rule.

So, when Lance invited him in to “escape the cold for a few minutes”, he said yes. And he climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor’s apartment where Lance lived, and he watched Lance fumble with the key in full knowledge that he might end up doing something stupid that night.

 He still clung to that illusion that he might be able to find some self-control though, and make it into a simple, inconsequential one-night-stand. He clung to this illusion until they were making out, and his senses sharpened. He clung to it until he tasted Lance’s mouth and found him to be a negative blood type, which he had always been weak for. He clung to it until they were in the heat of the moment, and he was suckling at Lance’s throat, as if to give him a hickey. He clung to it until he planted both of his fangs in Lance’s neck.


	2. Push it

 

Keith woke up confused as to why he was even asleep. He looked to his side, expecting to see the trusty red numbers of his alarm clock. Instead he was met with the sleeping face of a pretty naked boy, and all his memories came crushing down on him at once.

Oh no no no no no no no no FUCK

He jolted up. He’d done it. Was he satisfied? Yes. Though mostly, he felt guilty as hell.

He found his clothes on the floor, searched through them to find his phone. It was about three in the morning. He got dressed, as being naked left him feeling just too exposed. He looked at Lance. He knew he couldn’t stay, but it still felt like a bitch move to just leave him like that. What was he supposed to do? For now, Lance would be safe just staying here, he’d be even safer when Keith would just leave.

So Keith left.

As he walked home, Keith felt uneasy. There was a presence behind him, tracking him, smelling his guilt. He didn’t even have his knife with him. He had left it at Allura’s, figuring he would be safe tonight. What a dumbass, he was in more danger tonight than he had been in the last few months because of his dumb mistake. He tried to breathe in and out, to stay calm, to not let his emotions give him away in a mile radius.

He looked over his shoulder and his heart started to beat steadily faster at the sight of a silhouette walking behind him. He tried not to freak out. Maybe it was just…someone. A normal person. Or a friendly ghoul.

Maybe he shouldn’t go home. Maybe he should try to get to Shiro’s instead.

He took a left turn, hoping that the silhouette would not follow him. It did. He started walking with a quicker pace, and so did the figure. At this point, whatever it was, he didn’t want anything to do with it. He ran.

Shiro’s place was about half a mile away, he could keep up a sprinter’s pace until then, but he didn’t know if it would be enough. The creature behind him hissed and sprinted as well, though it seemed quite a bit estranged in a bipedal body.

However, as opposed to Keith, the creature had no interest in maintaining its speed for any longer than what would be necessary to get a hold of its prey, and Keith found himself losing ground. He took a turn into a back alley, knowing that he had no escape but confrontation. He grabbed a trash cover—he would’ve liked a classic metal one, but had to resign himself to tearing apart a plastic one from a much more modern kind of garbage bin—and he lifted it as a shield. He waited for impact, for a loud THUMP to break apart his shield in one swift motion, but the THUMP he heard somehow didn’t touch him in any shape or form. It had rather touched his aggressor, he saw as he lowered down the trash cover. He sighed with relief when he saw a large, winged and animalistic creature straddling the demonic creature, ripping its head off.

“Well, that was close,” Keith said, looking away from the actually kind of gross imagery happening in front of him. He couldn’t escape the smell, though. Some horrendous mix of trash, blood, and rotten banana that had him wishing to be nose blind. The winged beast screeched at him.

“Yeah, um, thanks. I’ll, I’ll leave you now.”

He was walking away from the whole show when he caught a glimpse of the head of the person who had be chasing him. It had rolled a few feet from the winged beast and faced him, slightly disfigured, but still recognizable. He knew that face. He couldn’t place it exactly, but the number of people he knew by name being quite small, he figured he had met and talked to them at a local bar somewhere, at least a couple of months ago. Hair raised on his arms. It didn’t take him a second reminder to decamp.

By now, he was already halfway from Shiro’s place, and he figured it would be his safest bet for the night. He got out his phone and texted him.

_ Keith: Hey, Shiro, are you home? _

_ Keith: I just escaped some demon. I got lucky, Hunk saved me at the last second. _

_ Keith: At least I think it was Hunk. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was Hunk. _

Shiro:  Are you all right?

_ Keith: I am. I was just wondering if I could crash at your place today. _

Shiro: No problem. By the way, I have some blood for you.

_ Keith: I won’t need it. _

_ Keith: Shiro, I fucked up. _

Shiro: What happened? 

Shiro: No, don’t answer, you can tell me everything once you arrive.

 

Keith shoved down his phone in his pants, having been unkindly reminded of his mistake. Fleeing the demon, he had mostly forgotten about Lance, but not it was back to haunt him most unkindly. Not only that, but Lance’s sleeping face had merged with that decapitated head to form a disgustingly unpleasant image in Keith’s mind.

He luckily got to Shiro’s place before any other demon could track down his broodiness. He walked in without knocking, as if it were his own place. Shiro came up to him from his kitchen.

“Keith! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith said.

“What happened?”

“Well, I was walking home, and, uh, I was followed. I didn’t have my knife, I left it at Allura’s, so it was really quite a bad situation. But, like I said, Hunk came out of nowhere to save me, he’s probably still eating that corpse.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re safe,” Shiro said. “Though, why did you leave your knife at Allura’s?”

Keith fidgeted a bit.

“I…didn’t want…tofreaktheboyiwaswalkingwith,” he answered.

“The what?”

“The, uh, boy I was walking with?”

“Why would a concealed knife freak someone out if they don’t get to see it—I…ohhhh.”

Shiro just had the epiphany.

Keith buried his face in his hands.

“Shiro, I fucked up, I know, please don’t be mad, I didn’t think…I didn’t want to…I…”

He was on the verge of sobbing, which, really, only made him feel more embarrassed. Shiro hugged him, patted his back calmly.

“It’s okay, Keith, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad? I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

He walked Keith to his living room, had him sit on the couch.

“I guess we are going to have to tell him soon,” Shiro said.

“I guess,” Keith shrugged.

“Well, we can’t have him running around, not knowing what he is or why.”

“Look, Shiro, I’m not disagreeing here, but I’d really rather not have to tell him that I may have kind of ruined his life.”

“You have to own up to the consequences of your actions, Keith.”

Keith just leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms, not answering nor looking at Shiro.

Shiro sighed.

“Well, we’ve got until tomorrow night to think about how we’re going to deal with this, for now, it’s nearly five o’clock and you’ve had a long night, so I’m guessing you may want to go to sleep. Come on, we’ll get the bed ready.”

The bed was the couch, and they unfolded it and made the bed in silence. Then Shiro wished Keith good night (even if they didn’t sleep at night, they still used the same formula out of habit) and went himself to bed. Usually, Keith would stay up for much longer than that, hidden behind the safety of his curtains until eight, sometimes nine o’clock, but for once he didn’t complain. He did just want to go to sleep in order to escape the hell scape that had been his night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i ever going to explain anything? maybe
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed that.  
>  Comments help to bring new chapters in my guilt-kicking my ass and my ego.


	3. Don't Bother

Lance opened his eyes with a groan, then closed them back almost immediately. It took him quite a long time to finally settle on the option of waking up, at which point he instinctively slammed his hand on his bedside table, searching for his phone.

He didn’t find it.

He scurried more thoroughly, then he sat up a bit and searched the floor, the immediate under his bed, the crack between the bedside table and the wall in which his phone had often tumble, without success. He sighed.

“fckigin dumb mfiforgot to plugmyphonsrly?” he mumbled to himself.

He got up, stretching the unusual stiff and sore muscles of his body. At one point, his hand brushed against his neck and found an…unusual thing.

“Uh?”

He stood up and walked to his bedroom mirror. In the dimmed daylight, and tried to look at the perceived indent. No matter how he tried to observe his neck, it would only show him his perfectly normal and unbruised skin. It was like those hurtful pimples which feel like they cover half of your face but are hardly visible. He could _feel_ some weird, little holes in his skin, little scars, but even as his fingers pressed straight on it, he could not see them in the mirror.

“What the damn?”

He looked on the side and saw most of his clothes of yesterday splayed across the floor. Had he…gotten drunk last night? He couldn’t remember beginning to drink, but neither did he remember tearing off his clothes and going to bed, so it was a possibility. He didn’t feel _too_ hungover, though he did have a light headache.

That was weird.

Wait. Didn’t he remember a story he read somewhere about people’s memories being affected by bedbugs? It would explain the black out and the bites. He wasn’t sure, but the thought was enough to look at his bed with the sudden urge to see it burn. It was his most likely explanation anyway. I mean, it was either that or he got drunk, blacked out and hooked up with a vampire.

He shook his head and got dressed, then he shuffled his clothes to look at his phone.

Wait. 4 PM? What in the world got him to wake up that late? Like, ok, he wasn’t and early bird but…

Oh, well. He was on school break anyway. It really didn’t make much of a difference that he wasted his whole day.

He wandered around his kitchen, looking for something to eat even though he fully knew there was nothing. He was surprisingly not all that hungry anyway. More restless than anything.

Without a second thought, he put on his jacket and got out of his apartment. Today was warmer than yesterday, a cloudy, covered weather. Lance was ambivalent on whether it made him feel safe or trapped.

He walked down the streets without any particular idea where he was going, his eyes following the cracks and cigarette butts on the sidewalk more than they followed a path. His mind, however, wandered around the neighborhood, mentally reminiscing the shops and the people, the familiar foreignness of the world he lived in.

It had been a year now that he lived in the city, and what he had learned from it is that the chaotic metropolitan buzz may be a language one became used to hearing, but it didn’t mean it was a language one naturally grew to understand. Crossing paths with someone didn’t entail that you saw them. Sharing did not mean that there had to be an exchange. There was a dread, but also a strange comfort in that. An abandon.

He ended up in front of the Altea café. This was a strange place to him. Probably because it didn’t obey to those rules of the city, it gained a coherent familiarity. Like a set in a sitcom, it was a point of gathering, of normality.

He entered. The bell clanged merrily, and he walked up to Allura behind the counter.

“Hey,” he said with half a smile.

“Hi Lance!” she said with much more enthusiasm than was usual for her.

Then her gaze fell a bit lower and she frowned.

“What happened to your neck?” She asked.

Lance reached up to his neck.

“Wait, you can see that?”

“It’s, uh, pretty obvious.”

“I, well, I mean I can definitely feel it, but, I’m not sure what caused it. I woke up with it this morning…afternoon.”

Allura squinted.

“What?” Lance asked. “Is it that bad?”

“I…What did you do last night after you left the café?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember last night? When you came here? What did you do after that?”

“I…I didn’t come here last night…”

“Oh no, this is bad,” Allura muttered.

She looked around the basically empty café, then walked to the door to close it.

“Follow me,” she said dryly to Lance.

He followed her through the beaded curtain and into the back room. Allura sat him on the couch and disappeared upstairs. She came back with a weird flat metal bowl and a couple of vials filled with unknown substances.

“What’s going on?” Lance asked, confused.

“I’m just checking something,” Allura said.

She laid the bowl on the coffee table, pushing aside miscellaneous objects in the way, poured a clear liquid into it, muttered something, then put two drops of some other maroon liquid which disappeared the moment it touched the first, clear one. She grabbed one of Lance’s hands, and, before he could object, swiftly pricked his finger with a small knife.

“Ow!”

Lance removed his hand from Allura’s grip.

“Lance, give me your hand.”

“What? So you can stab it again? No way!”

“Lance, please.”

“I’m not doing anything for you until you tell me what’s going on. I don’t care if you flash me those pretty eyes, I won’t budge.”

It wasn’t pretty eyes which Allura flashed him, but a menacingly serious glare.

“Give me your hand,” she simply repeated.

He complied.

She pressed his finger above the bowl so a drop of blood would fall in it.

“I still want to know what’s going on,” he said as Allura was staring deeply into the bowl, an unreadable expression on her face.

She gulped. Her eyes looked up at him, full of a sort of pity.

He looked into the bowl. The substance had turned black, whatever that meant.

“Allura?”

“Lance,” she said softly. “I really need you to try and remember what happened last night.”

“I…” he said, starting to be seriously concerned. “I remember…coming in here? But it’s vague. I drank something, I remember the cup in my hand…and then that’s it. Maybe I’m wrong, I’m not sure, it’s vague, but that’s it.”

“So, you don’t remember anything after having drank from that cup,” Allura seemed to cringe.

“No, I mean…no.”

She nodded.

“Allura, what’s going on?” He asked.

She came and sat down next to him.

“It’s…hard to explain…”

She avoided looking at him.

“Well, okay then. Let’s start with simple questions. What was that for?”

He pointed at the bowl with the black liquid.

“Blood test,” she said.

“For what?”

“Supernatural activity.”

“Like what?”

“Vampiric infection.”

Lance mouth fell agape after that answer, like he wanted to add something, to ask another question, but too many came at the same time. He frowned in confusion. Allura gesticulated.

“I know it sounds crazy, but the test is positive, Lance,” she said. “With the marks on your neck, it doesn’t make much doubt, you got bitten by a _nosferat_ or an otherwise possessed vampire.”

Lance made a weird sound that showed he was still having trouble processing all that information.

He put his face in his hand, shaking his head.

“That…that…you’re bullshitting me. This is a shitty prank. You drugged me somehow, and now you want me to swallow this.”

“I am NOT kidding. Are you calling me a liar? Why would I even do that to you?”

“I don’t know!!It just doesn’t make sense!”

Allura took a deep breath, tried to calm herself.

“Look, I know it probably feels crazy. I know it’s hard to believe. But it’s important that you do. I know there is a group of pretty remorseless _nosferats_ running around in town, and that they turn people without consideration, it’s probably what happened to you last night…”

“You mean they…”

“Most likely you went somewhere last night, like a club or a bar. One of them seduced you, brought you home, bit you and escaped in the night. Or a possessed vampire did something similar, but then you would have most likely woken up at _their_ place, or in a suspicious motel room, so I doubt it’s what happened.”

“I can’t believe I got caught up in the plot of a shitty horror novel.”

He had a sour laugh.

“Well,” Allura said. “Luckily for you, I was there. I can help you. I mean, vampirism is not exactly my area of expertise, but I know vampires who can guide you. You see, we formed a sort of ghoul coalition to help each other get by, and save ourselves from demonic possession and such.”

“Okay, just, what is it about that demonic possession nonsense? Also, what are you if you aren’t a vampire?”

“I’m a witch. Also, demons constantly try to possess ghouls because it allows them to terrorize and subjugate humankind. It’s actually kind of what defines a ghoul.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I think I should go back to the café now, I’ve spent enough time blabbering like this.”

She stood up.

“You can stay there if you want. When he checks in for his shift, I’ll send you Keith. He’s a vampire, so he’ll be able to give you the talk better than I can.”

“Uh, okay,” Lance shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He certainly could use some time to just think about all of what had just happened to him.

\---

Keith had been reluctant to going to work that night, but he knew that since Coran wasn’t there, Allura had been overworking herself at the café, and that without him, she would just have to work even longer. So he showed up, but then immediately got shoved aside by Allura.

“Keith, we have a problem.”

“What?”

“You remember Lance? The boy who came here last night?”

Oh no. That was NOT good.

“…yeah?”

“Well, uh, apparently, once he left, he got infected.”

“Oh,” Keith said.

He tried to not let too many of his feelings show through. For a moment he thought Allura had put two and two together, but then he remembered that she didn’t _know._

“I _swear_ if I ever come across one of those dirty nosferats, I’ll give them a piece of my mind. They just go around turning people like it’s nothing, making a mess. Lance is lucky he made friends with Hunk.”

She shook her head.

“Anyway,” she continued, “He’s in the back. I left him there an hour ago. I told him the basics, but I think you are more qualified than I am if he has any other questions. I’ll take care of the café in the meanwhile. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him.”

“What?” Keith interjected.

Allura shrugged.

“I figured he’s one of ours, now. At least, for the time it will take for him to adapt. After that, he can do what he wants.”

She walked away. Keith groaned. He didn’t figure he would have to face Lance this soon. Neither had he figured that Allura would be involved, he had kind of hoped it could be managed only through him and Shiro.

On the other hand, Allura had conveniently handed him on a silver plate the opportunity to take care of the Lance situation without having to incriminate himself. By the way, why hadn’t Lance put two and two together and realized that he was the culprit for his infection?

That thought only crossed his mind as he entered the employee lounge. There, Lance sat crossed legged and crossed armed on the couch. He looked at Keith. He scanned him up and down thoroughly, as if trying to make sense of him.

“You’re Keith, I suppose?” He said.

“I…uh…yeah?”

Keith realized that somehow, Lance did not recognize him at all.

“Can I call you Dracula?” Lance grinned mischievously.

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on, it suits you. Vlad, maybe?”

“I think I’m going to go back to work,” Keith groaned.

“Wow, okay, so no fun allowed then. Got it. Taking notes.”

Lance mimicked a serious frown.

“Am I doing this vampire thing correctly?” he asked.

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Thank you, I try to be,” Lance grinned.

Keith was now vaguely annoyed and wondered how he could have landed in this guy’s bed last night.

He sat on the couch.

“Seriously, is there anything you need to know?”

“Is there anything I _don’t_ need to know?” Lance asked. “I learned vampires were a thing, like, half an hour ago. How often do we need to drink blood? Do we burn in the sun? Can I turn into a bat? I need answers, Vlad.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“All right, then, Mullet.”

Keith shook his head.

“First thing you need to know is that you turned yesterday, so it will take a couple of months until you reach your definitive…vampirism. So the characteristics, they’ll appear progressively.”

Keith spoke mechanically, not making any eye contact with Lance.

“How long have you been a vampire? Ten years? A hundred years? Did you stop growing old?”

“Your need in blood will vary, usually about once a week, but you’ll know you need it when you have a parched throat, trouble focusing, and that all human food seems stale to you.”

“What if I always have trouble focusing?”

“The sun gives us pretty bad rashes, I’d recommend avoiding it,” Keith continued.

“Okay, now you’re just ignoring me,” Lance said putting his chin on his hand.

“I can turn into a bat. You can’t, and probably won’t ever be able to.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re not powerful enough.”

“Wow, thanks for having faith in me.”

“You’re welcome. Do you have any other questions?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“For how long?”

“About six months.”

“So, you turned recently?”

Keith frowned.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Okay, geez, sorry, didn’t mean to be a bother.”

“Do you want to know something else?”

“How do I get the blood?”

Keith shrugged.

“You can bite people, though, if you don’t feel like it, Shiro works at the ER, he can get you some.”

“And biting people…it won’t…turn them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not a nosferat, and hopefully not possessed.”

“What’s a nosferat?”

“A born vampire.”

“And who is Shiro?”

“A friend of mine.”

“Alright.”

Lance looked in the distance, pensive. He didn’t look like he had any questions left.

“Well,” said Keith as he stood up. “I think I’m going to go help Allura now.”

He left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that was a lot of exposition. But I guess it must answer some questions, too?  
> anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Lowlife

Lance sipped on his Starbucks’ green tea pensively, as Hunk was explaining to him the details of how to make the perfect soufflé every time. He was gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his points, as if Lance was taking careful notes of his advice.

“You see, it’s really important to not overbeat the eggs, people don’t always realize that when they’re making a meringue, but overbeaten whites are as bad as underbeaten whites.”

“hm-hm.”

Hunk squinted.

“Lance, are you all right? You’ve been scarily quiet today. I don’t trust quiet-Lance.”

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

“You know Keith?”

“I do. He covers the evening shift at the café. You met him?”

“Yeah…I went in the evening recently. I just. I didn’t know there was other people who worked there, I guess. In hindsight, that was pretty stupid on my part. Of course, there are other people who work there. Duh.”

“I know Keith, though I don’t talk to him all that much. Our schedules aren’t exactly…compatible. And, no offense, but he can be a stick-up-the-ass, sometimes.”

“yeah…”

Lance was trying to steer the conversation somewhere, but he wasn’t sure how to make it sound natural.

“Did you know he is…uh…”

“…gay? Yeah, I knew that,” Hunk shrugged.

“What? No! I mean…okay?”

“What were you going to say?”

“I…I don’t know? Nevermind.”

“All right then.”

Lance continued to drink his tea, a bit frustrated. He wanted to tell Hunk about all the crazy shit that had been happening in his life, like, fuck if there was some kind of supernatural secrecy treaty or whatever, but the words just sounded so stupid and far-fetched that they couldn’t cross his lips. There were several parts of him that still didn’t believe this could be real, especially as he was sitting there in a mall Starbucks with his normal friend, living a normal life, free of vampires and witches and aliens or whatever.

It felt weird. So weird, in fact, he suddenly felt queasy. A knot in his stomach formed, the world around him blurred away—or maybe he was the one who blurred away from the world around him. He couldn’t tell.

“Lance—Lance are you okay?”

“Huh?”

Hunk saying his name moored him a bit.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” Hunk suggested.

“Yeah, sure,” Lance said.

They walked around the mall, eventually going into a Bath&Body works. Lance buzzed from tester to tester, smelling body wash and shower gel until his nose was stinging numbly from overstimulation.

Apple blossom. Cherry mist. Sea cotton. Vanilla cake. Forest blend.

Counter-intuitively, it kept the nausea at bay. So long as he focused on his senses, everything was okay.

“Lance, can we go somewhere else? I’m bored.”

“hm.”

Lance put back his Tropical fruit body mist tester on the display.

“Sure.”

They walked out of the store. Lance thought he would be fine. As he walked, he stared at the neon lights. Was it him or did they seem to be reflecting more than usual? There were white spots cluttering his vision.

Then suddenly the world fell upside down and faded away.

\--

“Lance? Lance!”

Once again it was Hunk’s voice that brought him back to reality, slowly, but surely. He opened his eyes. There was Hunk’s face. There was also some unknown, blurred lady face. In his haze, the lights shone through her hair, diffusing what seemed like an aura.

“Hunk, there’s an angel behind you,” Lance muttered.

Hunk’s worried face fell into a sigh. He turned to the lady.

“He’s fine,” he told her.

“Are you sure?” said the lady, who Lance now saw was the store clerk.

“Not as fine as you are,” he smiled.

“He’s a 100% back to his normal self,” Hunk said.

The store clerk giggled awkwardly. Lance looked around to see a few patrons standing still, glaring at him with curious eyes. He sat up. Tried sitting up. With Hunk’s help, he succeeded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You should be the one telling me,’ Hunk said. “All I know is that we were about to get out of here and you fainted.”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too sharp today, I guess,” Lance shrugged.

“You want me to get you back home?” Hunk asked.

Lance nodded.

The store clerk, now seeing that she was useless to the situation, started to walk away.

“Hey!” Lance said. “Thanks for your help!”

She turned back, pursed her lips and nodded. O…kay.

“Lance,” Hunk said, pulling Lance’s arm to get him to stand up. “You’ll get to be a shameless flirt once you get some rest, for now let’s go.”

Once Lance stood up, the last of the curious crowd dissipated. He could walk just fine, but Hunk still insisted on supporting part of his weight all the way until they were both sat in the bus.

During the bus ride, Lance fell himself doze off on his friend’s shoulder. Every once in a while, Hunk shook him to make sure he wasn’t fully asleep.

“You know, I’m starting to think we should get you to a hospital.”

“hmm? What? Why? I’m just tired, okay?”

“All right.”

“If we should be getting me anywhere, it’s Allura’s place,” Lance mumbled for himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why Allura’s place?”

“Well…maybe she’s got…something for me. Y’know?”

Hunk squinted.

“That’s…Dude, I feel like there is something you’re not telling me.”

Lance had a feeble laugh.

“Well, is there anything _you_ haven’t told me?”

Hunk froze for a moment. He then thawed slightly to rub the back of his neck.

“Maybe we _should_ go to Allura’s,” he said.

Lance didn’t answer, he just crossed his arms on his chest, leaned back into his seat and nodded.

To go to the Altea café, they just had to keep riding the bus for a couple more stops past Lance’s place.

When they got there, they didn’t really know what to say. Allura greeted them cheerfully, though she was visibly perplexed.

“Hello Hunk! Hello Lance! What gives for you two to be here? Did you forget something this morning?”

The last sentence was targeted towards Hunk.

“No,” He said. “Actually…uh, Lance and I were hanging out and he fainted. He told me you probably had something for him, so, uh, here we are, wouldn’t you know.”

Hunk laughed uncomfortably.

Allura’s eyes went from him to Lance, back to Hunk and to Lance again. She gave small nods as she answered.

“Okay. I, uh, I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you go sit somewhere? Are you going to get anything, Hunk?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Great.”

She escaped behind the beaded curtain, leaving Hunk and Lance standing in an awkward silence.

“I know,” Lance finally said. “I know everything about this place, and Allura, and Keith.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“And you were never going to say anything?”

“To be honest, dude, I’ve been dropping hints for months. You’re just kind of oblivious.”

Lance jerked.

“I am not!”

Hunk closed his eyes.

“Yes, yes you are. Come on.”

They sat at a table near the back.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve just been working in this hell café like it wasn’t a big deal, around all those…people? And you don’t think it’s weird?”

“Lance, I know where you’re getting at, but what you just said still sounded pretty xenophobic.”

Lance rested his face in his hands, elbows resting on the table.

He groaned.

“I’m just sayin’! Besides, did anybody ever tell you that _I_ wasn’t part of the freak show?”

“You call it a freak show and I’m the xenophobic one.”

“Well, you know, I don’t mind, but if I were you I wouldn’t try it around Allura or Keith. You never know what’ll get them upset. Coran is mostly fine.”

“And Shiro?”

“You know Shiro?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Well, I don’t know, but I think it’s fine. He’s a pretty open-minded dude. I wouldn’t risk _anything_  with Pidge, though.”

“Who’s Pidge?”

“Some friend.”

Suddenly, something quite obvious just hit Lance.

“Wait wait wait wait wait. Did you say you were also a ghoul? Did I hear that wrong?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, what are you even, then? You can’t be a vampire, clearly, you’re running around in daylight all the time. Are you a witch? A werewolf.”

“The technical term is _Aswang,_ but, you know, it’s kind of complicated, actually.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“yeah…”

Lance was trying to keep his cool, but he was clearly kind of freaking out.

Allura came back with some drink for him.

“Here you go,” she said. “It ought to give you some tonus for now.”

She looked away.

“Though I’m afraid in your case there is only one viable solution…you’re going to have to get to it eventually. Keith’s shift starts in an hour. You can wait until then if you want.”

Lance swallowed.

“yeah,” he said.

“Lance,” Allura said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

Lance nodded. Allura left.

“Say, is it me, or are you hitting on Allura way less than you used to?”

“What?” Lance’s face bore a confused expression. “Me? Hitting on Allura? I mean, I know I used to, but, wouldn’t it be…weird? I don’t know? I…can’t explain it, actually. I just…don’t see her like that anymore? I…I…”

Lance’s eyes filled up with question marks.

“You know what? It IS kind of weird.”

“Whatever, man, crushes come and go, I figure.”

“I guess…”

“So, vampire, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“I just deduced. It’s really weird to think of you that way, though.”

“Why? Aren’t I supposed to be suave, handsome and fatal? Seems like the description suits me.”

Lance smirked with his hand on his chin, in an expression he probably thought seductive.

“Sure Jan,” Hunk said.

He looked outside.

“Eh, look man, it’s not that I don’t want to give you all the support I can, but, I kind of have to go right now. Got a couple errands to run before the sun sets.”

“Oh, ok,” Lance shrugged. “See you around then.”

“Yeah, see ya!”

He left. Lance stared at his drink, which he had barely touched, and sighed. He chugged down the whole thing much faster than he probably should have, immediately coughing as an alcohol-like burn spread in his throat. Was there alcohol in this? Whatever, he didn’t even want to know.

He went up to Allura.

“Can I go in the back?”

“Sure,” she said.

So, he went.

The space was now familiar to him, given how he had spent most of his evening three days ago staring at every possible dust spec. It was maybe the only place where all that ghoul nonsense seemed real. He could still see the bowl filled with black water placed on the coffee table as though it still was there. He could look at the warm paint coat of the room, at the esoteric knick knacks placed everywhere, at the luscious plants growing from ceiling pots, he could look at all of it and feel as though it all made sense, feel as though he understood and knew this completely nonsensical world he had fallen into.

The door of the back alley opened. In walked in Keith, wearing a leather coat and with a motorcycle helmet under one arm.

“Sup, Mullet,” Lance said, meticulously examining a book shelf.

“Hi.”

Keith threw his coat and helmet on the couch.

There was something about Keith which annoyed Lance, though he could not put his finger on it. Something about the way he seemed effortlessly in his place, something about the way he seemed to not want anything to do with Lance despite a shared fate.

Lance stared at Keith. Keith crossed his arms on his chest and spoke dryly.

“You want something?”

“Yeah, blood.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get you to Shiro after my shift, then.”

He put on his apron and walked out of the employee lounge.

“What am I supposed to do? Just stay here for three hours? Keith, come back here this instant.”

Keith was already gone.

He huffed.

He picked up a book at random, sat on the couch and started reading it. He had expected it to be a spell book of some kind, but upon closer inspection he noticed it was just an old cooking book. Unless casseroles had some magical properties he wasn’t aware of.

He flipped through it nonetheless, his mind simmering his interaction with Keith (at medium-low heat in a large saucepan, like the spaghetti sauce on page 74). Was it to much to ask to get some sympathy from him? He was alone and scared of all which was happening to him, he didn’t need anyone to give him the cold shoulder on top of that. To make him feel like he didn’t belong among the only people who could actually empathize with his situation.

A tear dropped on the lemon cake recipe, making the paper wave a bit. Lance closed the book, wiping away his eyes. He tried to focus on his breathing, to stop his train of thought from trailing down the self-deprecating route. He let out a giggle, realizing how absurd he was being. That was definitively his type, to feel rejected just because someone happened to be a bit aloof around him.

He sighed.

“Is everything all right?”

Allura was standing in the room, apron in hands.

“Yeah, I’m just waiting, I guess.”

She hanged her apron, then walked up to Lance.

“I told Keith to close an hour early so he could get you to Shiro’s place. I get that this is hard.”

“How long have you been a witch?”

Allura looked down.

“All my life. But that doesn’t mean that I’ve lived like I do now all my life. I’ve only co-owned the Altea café for three years.”

“What did you do before?”

“I lived out in the country.”

“hm-hm.”

“I had a coven.”

“Oh?”

“It’s lonely around here,” she sighed. “I feel like Coran has been gone forever.”

“yeah.”

“I’m going to say it again, Lance, if you ever feel alone, if you ever need help, I’m right here. I’m not…good at emotional support, but…”

“It’s important to not let the demons win?”

“Literally. Hey, let me give you my phone number.”

Lance handed her his phone and she typed in her contact.

“Here. I also gave you Keith’s and Shiro’s numbers, you already have Hunk’s. He’s rarely…available past sunset, but he’s your friend no matter the time.”

“Thanks,” Lance said.

She walked up to her apartment, leaving him alone, but feeling much better.

He immediately changed Allura’s contact for “Witch Mom” and Keith’s contact to “Mullet”.

He played some app games for about an hour until Keith walked in and hanged his apron.

“Well, not too soon,” Lance said.

“You’re going to have to work on your patience,” Keith replied.

“You’re going to have to work on your small talk.”

Keith didn’t answer to that, instead he picked up his jacket and helmet and walked outside. Lance followed him. In the back alley was parked a red Kawasaki ninja.

“I usually walk to work, but I’ve seen unrecommendable things roam around the neighborhood, so I’m being careful. I don’t have a second helmet, though.”

“I’m not getting on that thing without a helmet.”

“Suit yourself,” Keith said as he got on the bike anyway.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going? You said you’d bring me to Shiro!”

“I offered you a ride, you declined. Not my problem.”

“Like damn it’s your problem! I waited two hours for you to come out of your shift, because you said you’d help me!”

Keith sighed, then removed his helmet and handed it to Lance.

“Here. I won’t need it anyway.”

“Thank you,” Lance said reluctantly.

“I’m not as frail and fragile as you are.”

“That was uncalled for,” Lance said as he climbed on the back of the Kawasaki. There wasn’t all that much space for him, he didn’t know where to put his feet. Eventually he found a position that was probably the one intended.

“Hold on tight.”

Keith made the ignition roar, and the bike started moving. At first, Lance thought this wasn’t that bad. But then, they exited the commercial streets and Keith shifted gears into crazy mode.

It wasn’t that Lance disliked speed. In fact, he loved it. When he was a kid, he remembered clearly wanting a motorcycle. And then a speedboat. And a sportscar. And a jetplane. And then a spaceship. Point was, kid him was delusional, but he had never been much of a chicken when it came to those things. Problem was, he didn’t trust Keith, he was pretty sure the guy was speeding just to scare him, and it kind of ruined his fun.

Eventually they stopped in front of an urban house in a pretty calm neighborhood, not too far from where Lance lived but quite different in terms of wealth.

“You all right?” Keith asked when they got off the ninja.

“Never been better,” Lance said, even though he internally was mourning the death of his resting heart beat.

The door was unlocked, and Keith walked inside without ringing the bell or knocking. Lance stood still before the doorframe. The door eventually closed by itself, and he was left outside alone, not exactly sure why he couldn’t just follow Keith inside. He crossed his arms. Footsteps and indistinct voices could be heard inside. Eventually, the door swung open for him, to reveal Keith and a buff man he assumed to be Shiro.

“I’m sorry Lance, come in,” he said.

It was like an invisible wall had been torn down, and Lance could finally bring himself to step inside.

As Keith closed the door, Shiro presented his left hand to Lance.

“Glad to finally meet you,” he said.

Lance shook his hand, the unfamiliar symmetry of the handshake bringing him to notice Shiro’s missing arm. His handshake was nonetheless quite firm.

“Keith has told me about you. I suppose it must have been quite the shock for you.”

“Yeah, but not as much as finding out there is a 24h gym in this neighborhood.”

“What?”

“You know…because…you obviously work out…and…you know what, nevermind.”

Lance cursed to himself.

“I don’t get it,” Keith said.

“You don’t have to get it,” Lance answered.

“Shiro owns a car he could go work out somewhere else, he—”

“Keith, it’s okay,” Shiro stopped him. “Why don’t you go get our guest what he came for?”

Keith threw his hands in the air with a shrug and walked inside. Shiro lead Lance into the dining room. The house was sober, but clean. A single frail potted plant on the table served as the only decoration in the room.

Keith came back with a pouch of blood, a straw and a pair of scissors and sat down.

Lance stared at the blood pouch, his fingers tapping idly against the table. He felt Shiro and Keith’s glares on him, and tried to ignore the awkwardness of all of it.

“Do you want us to—” Shiro started.

“No, it’s fine,” Lance cut him before even knowing what Shiro was about to suggest.

“Well, don’t just stare at it, then,” Keith said.

Lance stared right at Keith and grabbed the pouch from the table. He took the scissors, but instead of cutting a corner he punctured the bag right in the middle of the top part.

“What are you doing?”

Lance stopped. Once he had punctured the bag, the smell of blood escaped and reached him.

He froze and swallowed. It was a weird sensation. It stung to the point of giving him a headache, the way the whole world felt _way to sharp_ all of a sudden. He saw in full color despite the low lighting, he saw the heat, he saw the movement of the air. He heard shapes and smelled sounds. It was like every cell in his body was being re-wired, plugged into new outlets and discovering new features.

“Lance? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Keith’s voice tasted warm.

“It’s okay,” Shiro’s voice strung, rugged like the texture of a speaker. “Blood and the smell of blood are a catalyst to the transformation.”

Somehow, Lance’s hand reached the straw. He planted it in the pouch, and brought it to his lips.

He took a sip and swallowed, that’s what his entire body told him to do. Though, the second he did so, he cringed. His bones hurt. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Focusing on that feeling, he could take a second sip. And a third. He vacuumed the pouch dry, until his senses dimmed again, and his body filled with a deep numbness.

He could barely feel someone helping him stand up, could barely hold on to their shoulder, before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go. three-thousand-five-hundred words of Lance crying, fainting, and bickering with Keith. You're welcome.
> 
> So far my attempts at mixing literary gothic, supernatural YA romance and coffee shops AU has proved to be exactly what you would expect, aka a bloody mess. But god get wrecked, im going to ride it as far as it goes.


	5. Alive

Keith was freaking out. As much as he tried to make it seem like he was in control, he had actually never witnessed a transformation, and every weird shit that popped up only contributed in making him feel even more guilty for having imposed that on Lance.

He thought he knew all there was to know about vampirism. Apparently not.

“When is he going to wake up?” He asked Shiro, who wasn’t freaking out in the least.

It made sense, given that he went through it before. And had helped a handful of panicked and confused young vampires at the ER, too.

“In a few hours, most likely,” Shiro answered.

Keith crossed his arms and stared at the sleeping beauty splayed on the couch in peaceful (?) slumber.

“His organism is in shock. The venom was pretty idle in him, spreading slowly, but now it has definitely been activated.”

“Shouldn’t we have waited before giving him blood then?”

“Not once the exhaustion starts. At that point, it’s better to have it hit all at once than let him agonize for weeks. He’d run out of adrenaline and be more at risk of depression, or botched infection, which would leave him more vulnerable in the long run. No, it’s better to give them blood as soon as the first symptoms occur.”

Keith didn’t say anything, he just nodded.

“He’ll be fine,” Shiro stated confidently.

There was a long silence.

“What are we going to make of him?” Keith finally said.

Shiro shrugged.

“Take care of him as long as he needs it.”

“That could be a while.”

“That’s what I did with you.”

“That…wasn’t the same,” Keith said. “Nobody transformed me. I would have been screwed either way.”

“I think you don’t want him sticking around just because you’re afraid he’ll find out.”

“I…I’m afraid anyone could find out. Not just him. Allura too. You promised you would keep it a secret, and I know I fucked up, but that’s not a reason to break it. What he believes is perfectly fine, and doesn’t need to be changed.”

Shiro shook his head.

“Relax, Keith, I wasn’t going to tell him. I know it’s important to you. I’m just saying you got lucky this time, his amnesia was deep, much deeper than anyone I’ve met, actually. But normally, he would have known.”

“Normally, people remember everything before the bite.”

“This still mystifies me,” Shiro concurred.

They paused for a moment. Then, Shiro stood up and picked up the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering pizza.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to be ravenous when he wakes up, and I doubt he’d want anything that’s in my fridge.”

Keith winced at the memory of protein shakes, greenery sludge and dubious leftovers that were the landscape of Shiro’s fridge. Yeah, no, he had had his fair share of it, and Lance most definitely did not deserve that.

Shiro ordered the pizza and disappeared into his room. Keith stayed right where he was, pacing restlessly, eyeing Lance every so often.

He remembered the previous cases Shiro had handled. Keith had never met any of them, but he knew one had moved to the Netherlands to work on her family’s super-farm, one had come in too late and got possessed only a few days after, one drove his car off a bridge and at least two disappeared without a trace.

So, yes, Keith was worried. He barely knew Lance, he didn’t want to get attached, but there was no distancing himself from the responsibility he had in all of it.

After a while, the wait became too unsettling, and he decided to set out for a ride.

\--

When Lance woke up, he felt as if though quicksilver had run through his veins while he was knocked out. His heartbeat ran steady, but loud, and he was as exhausted as if he had spent the whole night sprinting a marathon. His muscles were too limp to move, so he just stared into the abyss of a hallway from his lying down position, endlessly confused about where he was. Or who he was in general.

It was the faint smell of melted cheese which awoke something in him, a deep sting in his stomach.

He tried to run towards the smell, but instead just fell off the couch, landing on the floor in a loud THUMP.

“I’m alright!” He yelled out to nobody in particular.

Footsteps came running down the hall as he sat up.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked.

“I’m hungry,” Lance answered.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Shiro left for the dining room and came back with a box of pizza. Lance stood up, clawed the box out of Shiro’s hands, and sat back down on the floor, tearing away a first slice.

He ate it in a few bites, not minding any of the sauce that came rippling down his chin, then helped himself to another, and another, and another. He went almost through the whole box without a second thought, he ate the last slice out of principle. Once done, he sighed deeply.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

He stated his words calmly, staring at his hands like a parent would look at a mess their kid had made.

The front door opened and Keith came in. He saw Lance awake and didn’t say anything.

“Feel free to use the shower,” Shiro said.

“I’m sorry about your carpet,” Lance said.

Shiro shook his head.

“It’s okay, I didn’t like it all that much anyway.”

“Well, I…I guess I’ll clean up myself a little, then.”

Lance wobbled as he stood up.

“I’ll get you a clean towel and some clothes,” Shiro said.

About a minute later, Lance was in Shiro’s bathroom, a clean towel and some suspiciously sized clothes folded neatly over the closed toilet cover. He undressed, making small noises halfway between relief and pain as the movements stretched his sore muscles.

It was only relief he felt, though, as the warm water hit his skin.

He was still wetting his hair when his tongue fell upon something suspicious in his mouth. A tooth loose in its socket. A canine.

He kept playing with it with his tongue, intrigued and annoyed by the sensation. He did it almost absentmindedly, wondering just how much it could move.

Pretty much all the way, it turned out, as the tooth just ended up falling in his mouth. He spat it out.

“Oh crap,” he said.

For a moment he thought it wasn’t all that weird, and then he remembered that he was an adult, with all his adult teeth, except for his wisdom teeth which he had purposefully gotten removed, and that no, it wasn’t normal that he was losing them like that.

He thought of calling out to Shiro, he thought of asking for confirmation that this was indeed some more vampire bullshit, but the very thought of escaping the warm water jet discouraged him. He set his tooth aside and continued to shower as if nothing had happened.

He ended up taking, like, a forty-five minutes shower.

Then he took a nap.

By the time it was about 5 am he realized that he had essentially been squatting a near-stranger’s house, and despite the near-stranger showing no signs of being bothered by it, he figured he should probably head to his own place.

He had classes that day, but honestly? He felt entitled to skip them. He’d have to figure out one way or another to stop going to school, but the thought made him too anxious to really linger on it.

He thanked Shiro and left. The latter proposed to give Lance his phone number, but Lance declined admitting he already had it. And Keith’s. He left his, though.

Keith had already left, so Lance set out to walk back home in the gray mist of the early morning.

The city had an eerie feel to it at this hour, with only the occasional cat or car passing by to distract from the otherwise dead melody of silence. There was a cold breeze which chilled his bones and soothed his soul. He passed by a children’s playground next to a church, and stopped.

The swings hadn’t been removed yet, and they creaked lightly in the grayest hour. Lance sat in one of them.

He closed his eyes.

There was something abnormal and quietly, unthreateningly terrifying in this moment. Something still, caught in between two heartbeats of the world, between two busy days. Something so short, so brief, yet something of a natural state of things, a nature one would unmistakably return to.

He did not feel dread. There, he felt like he belonged.  Then, he felt undead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's kind of short, but I did spend most of my day watching the new season, so.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think!


	6. I Ran (so far away)

 

Keith parked his ninja three blocks away from the building he was looking to infiltrate. He texted Pidge.

_ Keith: I’m close to the address you sent me. _

_ Keith: What’s the plan of action? _

Pidge: There are four perps involved. One is doing a lookout from a parked car, two are loitering downstairs, and one is with the girls on the second floor. 

Pidge: I couldn’t decipher whether they were human or vamps. In any case, they are all armed with handguns. 

Pidge: Even though it’s an abandoned building, flow is really low in this area. I won’t be able to manifest, sorry.

_ Keith: It’s fine, I can handle it on my own. _

Pidge: Be Careful.

Keith pocketed his phone without answering. He covered his face and walked the empty back alleys until he could reach a spot with a good view on the street and the abandoned building. In front of it was a car, with a visible silhouette inside.

Pidge had made it abundantly clear that he had a tactical advantage in sneaking up on the guy overlooking the two girls before anyone else, as this way he couldn’t kill them before he had a chance to act. Luckily, he could sneak up from behind the building and crawl the wall all the way to the roof out of sight of any living soul. He broke the lock of the door to the inside, and snuck down to the second level.

He looked both ways into the hallway, unsure which of the rooms exactly was the right one. He roamed for a while until a door opened right in front of him, six feet of finely exercised protein shakes emerging in front of him.

He had no hesitations. Without letting the perp do anything, he stabbed him right in the throat. The giant fell on the floor with a loud noise.

The walkie-talkie he was wearing creaked.

“Braydon? Braydon what was that noise? Do you need help up there?”

Keith stared at the dead man on the floor for a second.

“Hold on, we’re coming up.”

 He then heard footsteps. He hid at the corner of the hallway.

He held his breath until the moment the footsteps were close enough that he could jump out and kill one of the men in a single swoop. Unluckily, there was a second man just behind.

Keith saw and heard the shot distinctly, yet paid no mind to it as he finished off his job of getting yet another body on the floor. It was only when a sharp sting in his left shoulder made itself known that he bothered to attend to it.

He put his hand, then retrieved in, in his shock genuinely surprised to see blood staining his fingers. All things considered, it didn’t hurt all that much. His vision went blurry, but he quickly brought it back into focus, telling himself that he needed to free the girls now.

He walked into the room from where Braydon had exited, only to find three ragdoll masses collapsed on the floor, hands tied and gag in their mouth.

They were still drugged unconscious.

Keith almost felt relief. Dealing with the ghost brides was always kind of a hassle to him, what with all the questions they had. He untied them, then let them to their own devices. They’d wake up soon enough, and could probably find their way to the nearest police station, or even home, without his help.

Once that was done he thought for a moment he was done, but then he remembered the guy in the car. His arm stung more painfully now, and he was starting to suffer from an important blood loss.

Bullet wounds were no joke.

He texted Pidge.

_ Keith: took out three of the four guys _

_ Keith: Guy in car only one left. _

_ Keith: I am wounded. _

Pidge: How badly?

_ Keith: I got shot in the shoulder. _

Pidge: ouch.

Pidge: Do you want me to call Shiro?

_ Keith: He’s at the ER _

Pidge: Well, so should you be.

Pidge: Allura then?

Pidge: I’d call Hunk, but god knows where he is, and I can’t exactly text him.

Pidge: I know Allura has to sleep at night but the circumstances would justify it.

_ Keith: I think I can still take on the last guy. _

Pidge: Are you sure?

_ Keith: Yeah. _

Pidge: uh oh

Pidge: This can’t be good.

Pidge: The guy in the car just rolled away. 

_ Keith: What? _

Pidge: Yes, he fled.

Pidge: Which means either he’s a coward, or he’s going to get reinforcements.

_ Keith: Can you follow him? _

Pidge: Sure.

Pidge: But only if you let me call Allura to pick you up.

_ Keith: What? _

_ Keith: I tell you I’m fine. _

Pidge: You know what?

Pidge: Why am I even asking you about it?

Pidge: Here.

Pidge: I’m calling her right now and there is nothing you can do about it.

Pidge: Now you wait for her.

Pidge: and if the girls aren’t awake yet, or the perp was indeed getting reinforcements, then you’ll have to go dump them somewhere safe. 

Pidge: Think you can do that?

_ Keith: I guess. _

Pidge: Great.

Pidge: Now I’ll go haunt some bad guy car. 

Keith sighed. Having Allura pick him up with her minivan really wasn’t the way he portrayed the ideal mission. But there he was.

As if that wasn’t enough, one of the girls started squirming. She opened her eyes, sat up and looked around with her hand pressed against her forehead.

When she saw Keith, her body became immediately defensive, and she jumped back with a hiss.

There was something out of the ordinary with the way she moved, and the way she did not seem as confused as she should be.

“I’ll never surrender to you leeches,” she spat out.

Keith had no idea what was going on.

“I…”

Her eyes darted towards any object in the room which could serve as a weapon, and settled on a brick she threw at Keith who barely dodged it.

Keith was still confused, but as he was being attacked he felt it was only appropriate for him to strike back, he tried to contain the girl with his valid arm, but she was much stronger than he expected a human to be, and she caught him in a headlock.

“Who sent you?”

“Ow, I, No one.”

She tightened her grip.

“I can smell your blood so it’s no use lying to me, I know you’re one of them. I want to know how you knew where we were.”

“I don’t understand.”

She punched his invalid shoulder, which hurt very much.

“The insurgence headquarters. Where you kidnapped us. I want to know how you found it.”

“I came to save you!”

“Save us from ourselves, I know the drill, I know how you think subservience to you is the only way we can be happy, but it’s not. I’ve had enough of your hegemony. I don’t care if it’s Zarkon or Lotor who sent you, Nosferats are the scourge of this earth. So, answer me, or I’ll kill you.”

Keith managed to gather up enough energy to lift her up and send her banging against the wall, which freed temporarily her grip upon him. He started running away, jumping over the dead bodies, ran downstairs, but just as he was getting away, she jumped from halfway into the stairs and tackled him to the ground.

She was choking him when the door of the building hall opened.

Allura.

Thank God, Keith thought.

The young woman on top of him jumped on her feet and took a sprint, running upstairs to either escape or wake up her companions. In either case, she was gone, and the shadow of Allura soon loomed over Keith.

“Who was she?” Allura asked.

Keith grunted. He wanted to tell Allura to run after her, but it was useless. His voice was stuck in his throat, and he knew that he had to get the hell away from here if he wanted to live.

Allura helped him get up, and he was barely conscious as she tied him to the front of the minivan.  By the time they turned the corner, he had passed out.

\--

Lance woke up at about seven in the evening, but he stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for much longer. Any peaceful feeling he might have had the morning before had vanished, and he was left with having absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

He could no longer go to class and he figured it was no worse like that, except for the fact that he was several thousand dollars in debt from the year and a half he’d done. He couldn’t go back to his family and only started to dawn on him and helped in no way to lift his spirits. He couldn’t talk about this really to anyone, except he guessed Hunk, Allura or Shiro, but the first one never answered texts at night, the second one was still working, and he didn’t know the third one all that much. He could text Keith, too, but he was pretty sure Keith wanted nothing to do with him, so he abstained despite his inexplicable urge to do so.

He eventually bothered to check his phone, though, and to his great surprise he met with a Paypal notification.

He opened the app to find that…

Wait. What?

Some unknown account had sent him money. Five thousand dollars, to be exact.

With the money was the simple caption:

“Hunk gave me your Paypal”

Lance had so many questions. The kind of questions which required an excessive amount of punctuation, namely exclamation points, and maybe even those reverse Spanish question marks which were so awesome and expressive. Just because he was like that, Lance would have probably added a lot of unnecessary emojis and keyboard smashing too.

Thing is, he didn’t know who to ask. So he threw himself back on his bed, and with all that money in his account, figured he could afford another nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this bitch can't do homework, but hey, at least she updated her fic. Now you can ask yourself even more questions. It's a good thing I already sort of know where this is going or id be dying with anguish.


	7. I think I'm Paranoid

When Keith woke up, he immediately tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed back down on the kitchen table by two strong hands.

“Stay still,” Allura’s voice commanded him.

He let out a grown.

“Now, now. We’re just trying to fix your shoulder. No need to complain, you’ve slept through the worst of it.”

As a matter of fact, Keith’s shoulder felt worse now than he remembered it from before he had passed out.

“Hurts like a bitch”

“I know,” Allura said as she spread some sort of ointment on the wound.

Keith let out an unpleased noise through gritted teeth.

Once her gloved fingers stopped pressing around, though, the pain eased under the fresh and tickling feeling of the unguent.

Keith sighed.

He stared at the familiar light of Shiro’s dining room ceiling. The sceptic smells of the room told him he had been subject to some emergency surgery in the last couple of hours, the nature of which he wasn’t sure he wanted to know about.

“Where’s Shiro?”

“Sleeping.”

“What time is it?”

“About ten in the morning.”

Keith groaned.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until I’m done bandaging you up before you can go get some sleep somewhere else,” Allura said. “I’ll give you some healing ointment, if you apply it once every morning before going to sleep, your wound will be gone in a few days.”

“hm-hm.”

Allura paused pensively for a few seconds.

“Keith, what happened out there?” she finally asked.

“I was doing a regular mission with Pidge, but one of the girls I saved woke up and attacked me.”

“That’s…odd.”

Keith tried to shrug, but figured out a bit too late that it was a bad idea. Allura made no comment on his “ouch”.

“She wasn’t human,” he added. “But I guess you had that figured out.”

“What, in the way she was tackling you?” Allura smirked.

“I was already injured.”

“Of course.”

“She was rambling about Zarkon and Lotor,” Keith said.

Allura stiffened.

“What did she say?”

“Uh, I, think she talked about how she didn’t care which one of the two had sent me, that she hated me either way, or something like that.”

Allura stayed silent for a long time.

“This is bad,” she finally stated. “This means there is organized Nosferat activity in this city, and I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Keith added.

He had had his fair share of the Underground Empire when he was a kid, thank you very much.

“You’re going to have to look over Lance,” she said. “We never know when someone might claim him.”

That was…unlikely, but Keith nodded anyway.

“Here, your bandages are done,” Allura said. “Now excuse me, but I really need to sleep, and so do you.”

She helped him off the kitchen table and unto the couch, before gathering her stuff and getting ready to leave.

“If there is any development,” she said with a hand on the front door handle, “I want you to tell me about it.”

She left.

 

\--

 

Lance stayed inside all week, browsing the internet and feeding himself on what little food he had in his fridge. Parts of him felt guilty about it, but mostly, he just avoided thinking or feeling in general.

It wasn’t as hard as he thought it could’ve been. Without the immediate worry of money, and having surrendered in an instant prospect of academic success, it was almost less stressful than his life before. The problem was, as enjoyable as binging youtube and mindlessly snacking was, it quickly turned sour without human interaction. Or nonhuman interaction, for that matter. And though he knew he’d have to address things like what he was supposed to do now about his social life, his family and all that jazz, he just sought to avoid it.

There was no instruction manual that came with his condition, no “rules” he’d been told to follow. He had just understood that there had been a break with his past life, and sort of taken advantage of it. Now what?

His fridge was now fully empty, so one evening he set to go grocery shopping. As he walked outside, and the cool early December air hit him, he suddenly wondered why he hadn’t done that before. A week inside was a lot. He took a deep breath and felt his throat parched, he had a sudden burst of appetite. He walked the few corners to the nearest grocery.

When he roamed the alleys of the shop, his hunger was still ringing, though somehow looking at the food made his stomach churn. Neither the produce nor the ice cream aisle brought any sense of _want_ in him, and the soft buzzing of the neon lights in the quiet grocery filled him with frustration.

He was staring at the chips when a movement behind him made him turn around, his eyes setting on a guy walking down the aisle, stopping to stare at the frozen meals right on the other side.

As the guy wasn’t looking, Lance eyed him up and down, appreciating his appearance. At first, he thought it was just the fact he had seen so few people recently that got him to stare at a stranger, then he assumed it to be lust, the kind of feeling you get when faced with a very attractive stranger, but then, though he couldn’t truly rule lust out of it, he noticed there was something else, too. In this stranger, there was something that all the aisles of the shop were missing, something _satisfying._

Oh. _Oh._

Lance backed away a few steps, inadvertently bumping into a minor display. The guy turned around.

“Are you okay?” He asked seeing Lance’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, I sure am,” Lance answered.

The man frowned with confusion, then just shrugged it off and walked away.

Lance stood there, dumbfounded for a few seconds. Trying to process the fact that he was quite literally _bloodthirsty._

I mean, it wasn’t like this insatiable urge to jump at someone’s neck, it was really more on par with lust or hunger, something he could control, but which still drove his brain mad at the prospect of dopamine release.

Without thinking, he nearly stormed off the store and into the cold night. He had to take care of this, for sure, though the idea of bleeding out a passerby was just not worth it, he’d have to head off to Shiro’s.

_ Lance: Hey _

_ Lance: Is this Shiro? _

_ Lance: I was just wondering…if it was ok for me to drop by tonight _

 

He waited for a moment. No response. He fidgeted nervously, really hoping it would work. Eventually, though, he lost patience. He eyed at the contact labelled “Mullet” for a second.

_ Lance: Sup man _

The response was immediate.

Keith: What?

Lance: I was just wondering if you had some blood to spare.

Keith: Who is this?

_ Lance: … _

_ Lance: Lance. _

Keith: Oh.

Keith: Well, Shiro has some.

_ Lance: I know but hes not answering his texts. _

Keith: He must be at work. 

_ Lance: Arent you? _

Keith: I just finished. I was heading out.

_ Lance: What am I supposed to do? _

Keith: Just head to Shiro’s.

_ Lance: But hes not there??? _

Keith: There is a key in the pot of the plant on his porch.

_ Lance: … _

_ Lance: Can you come with me? _

Keith: Yeah, okay.

_ Lance: Wait, really? _

Keith: I need a refill too. 

_ Lance: btw, blood thirst is just weird. _

Keith: I guess.

Keith: I’ll meet you there.

Lance wasn’t sure why he asked Keith to come along, maybe partly because he felt bad entering Shiro’s home without him knowing, and maybe partly because he so desperately needed someone to talk. In any case, he headed towards the general direction of Shiro’s place.

He knew the way, and he was fairly certain he could summon the memory to once again find the right street, but he was really unsure of whether he’d be able to find the right house number.

As he strolled down the sidewalk, a light snow started falling. In the darkness, it looked like tv static in slow motion. He looked up, and gazed kind of dumbly at the snowflakes that seemed to materialize out of thin air some fifteen feet up.

The noise of a motorized vehicle got him to look down, most specifically, the growling of a motorcycle stopping right in front of him.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Lance grinned.

“Oh, hey Keith. It’s always a pleasure to do talk pleasantries with you. I was being whimsical, in case you were wondering.”

Keith shook his head.

“I think it’s just going to save me some time if I abandon right now the idea of ever understanding you.”

“That’s what most of my girlfriends used to say.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

Lance shrugged.

“Hey, the Lance magic is a well-guarded mystery.”

Keith sighed.

“Want a ride?”

Lance knew Shiro’s place was still far away.

“Sure,” he said. “On the condition that you don’t drive like a maniac.”

“Whatever,” Keith said as Lance climbed on the bike. “It’s not like you’re all that fragile anymore.”

He did somehow drive less recklessly than last time, though. Still too fast and too furious, but at least he wasn’t trying to aggravate his passenger anymore. Or, not too much.

Once in Shiro’s house, Keith made a beeline for the fridge, ripped the corner of a pack of blood with his teeth and drank as casually as if it were a jug of milk for which he didn’t bother pouring himself a glass. It almost shocked Lance how non-animalistic the gesture was, how composed, as himself remembered, though hazily, his first experience with the stuff.

“What?” Keith asked, noticing Lance was staring.

“Nothing.”

Lance went to get himself a pouch too. He remembered how last time he had wanted to casually drink it as if it were a CapriSun, and how it didn’t exactly turn out as planned. He could try again, but somehow it just seemed unnecessary, he didn’t really think Keith would get it.

Anyways.

The experience proved somewhat less of a strain than the last one, but still rather messy, as is pouring an uncautionable amount of whip cream into your mouth. Once he had squeezed out every last drop out of the bag, he sighed with content.

Keith giggled. Which was about as odd as it sounds.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got, blood, uh,”

He gestured vaguely around his face.

“Around there.”

Lance effectively found a stream of gooey liquid dripping down the sides of his chin.

“Aw shit,” He said.

“Here,” Keith said as he handed him a bunch of paper towels from a roll hung over the sink.

“Thanks.”

Lance wiped up his face.

“You know,” He said as he dumped the paper towel into the trash. “I really don’t know what to do with my life right now.”

“Welcome to being a ghoul.”

 “Well, what do you do with your life, Keith?”

Keith shrugged.

“I…I work at the café. I go to the gym. I hang out here.”

“What were you doing before?”

“Before what?”

“Before, y’know, _all that._ ”

“Uh…”

Keith hesitated, as he couldn’t really say the truth. Not right now. He settled for a half-truth.

“I went to a prep school. Got expelled, lived in the city ever since.”

“Got expelled? For what?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“What about your family?”

“My family?”

“Yeah, your family.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Wow, that’s sad.”

Keith shrugged.

“But I guess it made it easier when…” Lance trailed off, looking disappointed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They were both standing awkwardly in the kitchen, avoiding looking at one another.

“Could I tell my family?”

“Would you be able to?”

Lance looked up at Keith.

There was a silence between the two of them, as something dawned on Lance. There was nothing physically preventing him from yelling on all roofs that he was a vampire, that he drank blood and he liked it, there was no secrecy patrol, not even any discouragement from other people like him. However, several things still held him back. The practical considerations, yes, the fact that he would be considered a lunatic if he ever was to say it. The weirdo or creep stigma that he wouldn’t mind that much, but would necessarily be there if anyone was to believe him, but above all the fact that he just couldn’t really utter the words himself, that despite all evidence pointing otherwise, despite him knowing what he was, there was still a part of him which didn’t believe in all that nonsense. A part of him that didn’t believe he was a ghoul, or that ghouls were even without a doubt a real thing which existed.

It reminded him vaguely of his sexuality.

He lifted a finger, as if to say something, but no word came out of his mouth.

Keith waited patiently for him to say something anyway.

“How does this whole ghoul thing work, anyway?” Lance ended up asking.

“What do you mean? Like, physically? socially?”

“Like, socially. How do you people organize? How do you know one another?”

“I’m not sure I’m the best one to talk to you about it, but, basically, every type of ghoul kind of has its own society, you know. Nosferats and vampires. Witches. Ghosts. I mean, there are other types of ghouls for sure, but those three are the only ones that really organize. The Underground Empire, the Society of Covens and the Undead Realm are things which…exist. But I’m not part of it. We live more among humans than anything else. Kind of like Exiles. And we organize among exiles. To make money and not get possessed. It’s better that way anyway.”

“Why?”

“Would you like to become a slave to some Nosferat Lord, to spend your nights roaming around for blood, only to be harvested of all which you have gathered, and quite possibly abused, when morning comes? Would you like to be paraded around as some status trophy?”

“Um, no.”

“Well then, you’ve got your answer.”

“I am becoming increasingly creeped out by this whole vampire thing.”

“No shit.”

“Oh, hey, by the way, look, I have fangs now.”

Lance grinned to show Keith his newly grown canines, which were all in all slightly disappointing. They looked almost like normal canines, if a bit forward and a tad sharper than his previous ones. He wasn’t sure he could actually bite into one’s neck with them, but they did give him a subtle vampire look.

Keith had an unimpressed laugh.

“oh wow, watch out,” he said like he would’ve to a kid wielding a plastic sword.

“Don’t tease me or I’ll bite you,” Lance said.

“They’ll poke out if you’re really thirsty or try to bite someone,” Keith told him.

“What, like a fang boner?”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

“it’s similar.”

“It sounds weird!”

“Fang boner,” Lance whispered.

“Don’t.”

“Fang boner. Fang boner. Fang boner.”

“You know what…”

Keith threw his hands in the air and walked out of the kitchen as Lance laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should mention that the chapter titles are always semi-ironic. 
> 
> Also, yes, there is a lot of worldbuilding. What do you think of it? Engaging? Too cliché? Heavy handed with the exposition?
> 
> What do you think of how I write the characters?
> 
> Tell me in the comments! And thank you for reading!
> 
> P-S: This seems to be the week Lance had:  
> [ some random web comic ](http://les8ean.tumblr.com/post/166812139698/carldangerous-pr1nceshawn-the-stages-of-not)


	8. Take a chance on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before Halloween...enjoy while this is thematically accurate.

When Keith came in for his shift at the café, he found Lance sat at the spot next to the window, doodling circles and squares into a sketchbook.

Keith walked up to him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Lance looked up from his sketchbook and grinned.

“What are you doing here?”

Lance shrugged.

“I got bored. So, I came here, had a chat with Allura, that was pretty cool. Long story short, she told me she’d give me a few tricks to pimp my beauty products after her shift, that’s why I’m still here.”

“Oh,” Keith said, nodding as he looked away. “That’s nice.”

“There is this tomato-olive oil recipe I’ve been using…”

“Tomato-olive oil? What are you, a pizza?” Keith huffed.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s very good, I’ll have you know! Besides, who wouldn’t want to be hot and irresistible like a pizza?”

“…”

“Come on. You have nothing to say to that? Compliment? Insult? You’re not even going to kinkshame me?”

“What’s a kink?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Keith, you are precious and innocent.”

“I…I’m…that is the first time anyone tells me that.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I’ve killed people before.”

Lance face made a strange gymnastic of astonishment and confusion at this casual confession.

“That…is…going to need some…elaborating…” he trailed, not sure how he was supposed to react.

There was a silence.

“Well, I’ve got to work,” Keith said as he walked away.

“Wait!” Lance yelled. “You can’t just…ugh. What? Is this a joke? Keith! Don’t go! I forbid you to go!”

But Keith was paying no mind to him.

He sighed.

“Can you at least get me a latte?” Lance yelled across the shop.

\--

“—and then he didn’t even get me a latte,” Lance ranted.

He put the last touch of pink nail polish on Allura’s hand, then blew on it lightly, as if it would make it dry significantly faster. He glanced at the clock on her bedroom wall, noting that there were only ten minutes left before he could go wash up his face in the bathroom.

“That’s classic Keith,” Allura grinned, examining her poorly-done nail job (Lance had only had experience with the clear bitter nail polish that was supposed to keep him from biting his nails. He did play with his mom’s nail polish as a kid, but then was told to back off as she clearly didn’t appreciate his artistic impulse to draw with it on her hand mirror).  “He’ll tell you things that have you seriously concerned, and then he won’t explain them at all. Just last week, I had to pick him up bullet-wounded from a mission I hadn’t even been informed about. It took six hours between me and Shiro just to salvage his shoulder. He seems to have recovered well, though. At least, thanks to him, I know my healing spells better than how to make coffee.”

“What? What kind of mission?”

“Oh, he and Pidge go on missions sometimes. Mostly, they’re commissioned by the Undead Realm, who pays big bucks to have some semblance of supernatural law in big cities. Things like exorcism, or taking down ghoul trafficking and stuff.”

“What’s ghoul trafficking?”

“It’s when individuals pay to have humans kidnapped and possibly killed or transformed for their own interests. Like a vampire who is too lazy or ugly to bite strangers, but who cannot get their hands on a reliable blood source. Or a ghost who wants a companion in death. According to the Undead Realm, these things are very much illegal things to do, but it’s not like the organization can enforce it directly, it doesn’t have the funds. As it turns out, having ghosts pay taxes is just not very feasible.”

“What about the Underground Empire or the Society of Covens?”

“The Society of Covens concerns itself with witch things only, and since most witches live among the humans, and abide to human laws, it doesn’t consider its duty to be law enforcement any more than the postal service does. As for the Underground Empire, it’s so far up its own ass it couldn’t give a fuck about humans except as a food source. The only thing it cares about is bloodlines and who-will-inherit-the-big-fortune-of-lord-so-and-so.”

“Huh,” Lance said.

Allura shook her head.

“Anyway, When Keith told you he killed people, he was probably referring to his missions.”

“I am reassured. Slightly. Actually, I think I might be more concerned than ever, just, not about Keith.”

Allura nodded.

“That’s understandable. Supernatural politics will do that to you.”

“I thought our biggest problem was demons.”

“Oh, demons are definitely a problem too.”

Lance dumped his back on the mattress.

“Jesus Christ.”

Allura looked at the clock.

“I think it’s time for you to wash out your mask.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

Lance headed to the bathroom, where he freed his face from the yellowish coating it had.

“Holy shit,” he said when he touched his skin. “This is a miracle.”

“Told you so,” Allura smirked from the doorframe.

“It’s so smooth. I feel like I’m touching a child’s skin.”

“I can give you some of the mixture that’s left. You can keep it in the fridge for up to a week.”

“I am your slave forever.”

“I shall be a kind master. Now do my nails on the other hand.”

Allura dramatically put her hand forward, jokingly authoritative.

Lance bowed deeply and kissed her hand.

“As you wish, your majesty,” he grinned.

\--

_ Lance: Keith. _

_ Lance: I want to go on a mission with you. _

Keith: What?

Keith: No.

_ Lance: Come on. _

_ Lance: I’d be great. _

Keith: Listen, I don’t want to have to babysit you.

Keith: I don’t care if you crave adventure, this is not a game.

_ Lance: I never said I thought it was a game! _

_ Lance: I just think you could use a guy like me. _

_ Lance: I could cover your ass so it doesn’t get shot like it did last week. _

Keith: Who told you about that?

_ Lance: Allura. _

Keith: remind me to sulk her.

_ Lance: I thought you were sulking her already. _

_ Lance: though it might just be your default mood, honestly, I can’t tell. _

Keith: Anyway, I appreciate the offer, but really, I’m better off by myself.

_ Lance: I’m a super valuable asset to any fight. _

_ Lance: I have deadly aim. _

Keith: And I have doubts in your claim.

_ Lance: I swear to God. _

_ Lance: just. _

_ Lance: Lend me a gun or something and I’ll show you. _

_ Lance: I can blow your socks off. _

Keith: Alright then.

Keith: I’ve got guns.

Keith: If you think you’re better than me, we can settle it fair and square.

Keith: I’m calling your bluff.

_ Lance: Somehow, I’m not even surprise that you own guns. Plural.  _

_ Lance: But I’m not bluffing. You have no idea how much practice I got with my neighbor’s BB gun. _

_ Lance: So all I have to say is _

_ Lance: Game on.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic goes from plotless character banter to heavy exposition in 0.5 seconds, and no, I will not apologize for it.


	9. Fire away

This was so very illegal.

Well, what did he expect?

Not to meet in a library basement in the middle of the night, in-between dusty cardboard boxes pushed around to make enough space for something that could resemble a shooting range. The doors that led there had been unlocked, somehow, when Lance had followed Keith inside. Now, he was pushing things around, while a messy-haired teenager sat on a plastic chair, smiling with interest.

“So, you’re Lance, huh?”

“Yeah. And you are?”

“Pidge. Welcome to my lair. This is going to be interesting.”

“I’ve heard of you,” Lance said. “You’re a ghost, right?”

Lance was skeptical, as Pidge just looked a bit too…tangible to be what he thought a ghost would look like.

“Yep. Humans can’t see me, but to you I must look like just a regular ol’kid.”

“yeah,” Lance said.

He decided to not ask further questions, because, honestly, at this point, he was starting to get tired of being the noob who didn’t know anything.

“Are either of you going to help me?” Keith said.

The area Keith had cleared up was already pretty decent, so Lance wasn’t sure exactly what he ought to do. The whole length of the room was made into a pathway.

“What are we going to shoot at?” Lance asked.

“Me,” Pidge grinned.

“You?”

“Yep. Well, an apple on my head. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt if you miss.”

Keith handed Lance a handgun and Pidge walked all the way across the room.

“It’s an unusual way to meet someone,” Lance commented as he took the gun Keith handed him. “You’re going to laugh, but I think I’m starting to miss my normal life.”

“I’ve never had a normal life,” Keith answered to that.

“So, what do we do? Do I go first? Do I get a couple of practice shots, at least?”

“Either of us can go first. The idea is to keep shooting until the apple is touched. The one who will have needed the less shots will be considered the best shooter.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Yeah, sure,” Lance decided.

He figured that he’d rather get over with it before Keith’s performance could stress him out. Besides, the gun was already in his hands.

This was not the kind of weapon to which he was accustomed, but he was confident he could do it anyway. He had never lost a game of paintball or laser tag in his life. Sure, this was completely different, but still, it was a small pride of his that he knew how to be reliable in action, beyond his aim even, he could take good split-second decisions, and keep his cool no matter what.

He removed the safety and Keith stepped back.

If he managed this shot, Keith would bring him on missions, and he could finally be in control of something in this mad world.

He aimed.

He shot.

It missed.

“You missed,” The voice of Pidge rang.

It was okay—he expected to not really mark at this distance with his first shot with a new weapon. He saw that he went a bit too high. He lowered his angle.

Still, it would have been cool to make it on the first shot. He had managed it many times before, he was just that awesome. Well, maybe not, but, y’know.

He wished being that awesome was something in his reach.

He took a deep breath and decided to trust his instinct. Not that trusting his instincts wasn’t something he was already doing, but he took it upon himself to relax more, to have his brain take the usual route it always took.

He shot again.

The apple burst into chunks near-instantaneously.

Well. That was that.

 No third time’s the charm, no emptying barrels, no disappointment.

Lance had a short laughter.

When he turned to Keith’s involuntarily impressed expression, it became a proud smirk.

“Told ya.”

“It’s not bad,” Keith acquiesced reluctantly.

“You know, in hindsight, the apple thing may not have been the brightest idea I’ve had,” Pidge commented. “It’s a mess over here.”

Lance and Keith were just staring at each other, as if trying to read each others’ minds.

“…”

“guys?”

“…”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything, but, uh, I think it’s Keith’s turn.”

Lance handed Keith the gun.

“It _is_ your turn, Keith,” He said.

“It is,” Keith confirmed.

“Just hurry up before I start looking like an idiot!” Pidge yelled, with a fresh apple on the head.

Keith placed himself, and despite how assuredly he stood, Lance noticed it was still a rather awkward position. Very stiff, like Keith was trying—and failing—to think of and control every muscle in his body at once.

It was no surprise he missed his first shot.

“If I wasn’t dead already, you would’ve killed me,” Pidge said.

Keith didn’t answer. He seemed deeply absorbed in thought.

“Take your time,” Lance said, unable to hold back the helpful comment.

Keith fired and—he fired again. Three or four shots in a quick succession, not even waiting to see if he had hit his target.

It might have been a trick of the light, but Lance could’ve sworn his eyes were closed.

He lowered his weapon. The apple was still on Pidge’s head.

“Looks like you won the bet,” Keith said, avoiding Lance’s glare as he unloaded the gun and put back the safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but, hey, at least it's there. 
> 
> Does this mean we're going to see some klance paranormal asskicking duo soon?
> 
> Yes. Of course yes. Geez.


	10. Renegades

It was admittedly a bit awkward, walking in like that into a holiday inn like discount ghostbusters wannabes, but hey, it was also kind of cool.

Outside, it was one of those days when the sky just poured like the whole ocean had been hung over the earth and was leaking through a fishing net. Prospects of a white Christmas were thinning by the day (or night). Anyway, it was grim and depressing all around, despite the brightly lit, mothball-smelling artificial tree in the hotel hall.

They walked up to a tired-looking woman typing on a computer at the front desk. She looked up at them and made a nonchalant sound indicating that she was listening to them.

“We’re here for room 217,” Keith said.

“Hello,” Lance said.

“Oh,” said the woman, suddenly more engaged. “Yes, room 217. I, uh, I’m gonna call my manager…”

She picked up the phone and pressed the shortcut button. She pursed her lips and nodded slightly as she waited for her manager to pick up.

“Yes, um, this is about room 217…”

[…]

“Yes, the man is here. Um, there is two men actually…”

[…]

“No, they look fairly normal.”

[…]

“One of them has a duffle bag.”

[…]

“Sir, this is a hotel, there is nothing suspicious about a duffle bag.”

[…]

“Alright, I’ll tell them that. Thank you, Sir. Goodbye, Sir.”

She hung up the phone.

“Sorry about that, my manager is quite skeptical about the whole thing…anyway, he will be here in a few minutes. You can wait over here.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

They sat on one of the beige hall couches, but they barely had any time to relax before a man in a suit with a little golden tag labelled “Mr. Dawson” came to them. He greeted them with customer service smile, but his eyes were sore with desperation.

“How glad am I to meet you, Mr.—”

“Tsuno”

“Ramirez”

They went with fake last names, just in case. Keith said they could never be too cautious.

“Mr. Tsuno, Mr. Ramirez, this way please.”

They took the elevator and walked the hallway, being shortly briefing on the various mischiefs the possessed ghost had enacted. At least fifteen times must Mr.Dawson have uttered the words “We wouldn’t have contacted you, but…”

Once in front of room 217, he had something of a step back, a growl. He handed them the electronic key and gladly left them to do whatever it was they were to do now.

They entered the room.

It was thrashed: The curtains had been pulled from the window and laid in a pile on the floor; the mini fridge grill chilled on the nightstand; the sheets had been torn and shredded; the lamps had been decapitated and most drawers were wide open. That is, except…

Lance walked up to the nightstand drawer and opened it, retrieving its bible.

“Not very religious.”

“It’s a demon, what do you expect?” Keith smirked as he opened the duffle bag he was carrying.

He insisted on bringing knifes and guns even though they wouldn’t need it, but, aside from that, the contents were mostly Allura’s stuff: candles, herbs, potions.

While Keith was unpacking, Lance opened the bathroom door.

What he saw was a purple-tinted-skin man in a business shirt rolling and wheezing uncontrollably on the tiles.

Lance closed the bathroom door.

“Welp. I found the demon,” He said.

“How is it?”

“Purple an wheezing.”

“Good. That means its host won’t hold up much longer. Demons in ghost bodies are a pain in the ass.”

“What do we do? Wait it out?”

“It’s an option. If we burn some herbs and drink Allura’s potion, we can protect ourselves and the room from demonic possession. If the host is about to give out, the hostile environment should snap it out, and the demon will go wherever else it can, hopefully far from here.”

“How long will it take?”

“A few hours, probably.”

Keith took a small vial from his duffle bag, downed it quickly, then handed an identical one to Lance.

He lit up a bunch of sage and incense, and let in burn in a small plate on the desk.

They both sat on the floor.

“This is boring.”

“Yep.”

“I hate those kind of jobs, why do they have to be the most well-paid?” Keith whined.

Lance shrugged.

 

HOUR 1

Keith paced around as Lance was on his phone. Every once in a while, he checked into the bathroom to see that there wasn’t much progress being made.

HOUR 2

Keith graduated to doing push ups at the foot of the bed. Lance figured it was a good idea to move his body too, to chase the boredom away, but, being too lazy to actually do push ups, he instead stretched into impossible positions, most of them probably bad for his back and neck.

Head upside-down, he watched Keith do an amount of push ups, squats and sit ups he didn’t even know were humanly possible.

HOUR 3

“I have to pee.”

“Go to the bathroom.”

“With the purple demon? No thanks.”

“He can’t harm you right now. It’s either that or hold yourself.”

“Ugh.”

Lance groaned, but he really had to go, so he stood up and opened the door. He winced at the creature, that was just spasming every once in a while, now.

Keith was alarmed when he heard a screech, he rushed into the bathroom, only to find Lance trying to gather himself, ready to get out of the bathroom.

“it’s okay. I’m fine. This is fine. It’s fine. It just tried to grab my ankle as I was washing my hands. No big deal. This is fine. I’m fine. The worst bathroom experience of my life, but it’s fine—”

“Lance…”

“I said it’s fine.”

HOUR 4

Lance was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, monologuing.

“You know, I think a lot of my personality comes from this guy in my neighborhood—he was a year older and I followed him everywhere—he was so funny and charismatic, I just _had_ to be like him, y’know. In retrospect, I might have had a crush on him? I don’t know, it’s always so hard to look back at your feelings that way.”

“hm-hm.”

Keith was back to pacing around, he checked for the umpteenth time, when, finally, he said:

“It’s gone.”

“It’s gone?”

“yeah.”

“It poofed?”

“It poofed.”

Lance sighed.

“FINALLY. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, I guess we just have to pack.”

“Great,” said Lance as he was already putting back the herbs and stuff in the duffle bag.

In the end, they didn’t even need to use the extra vials of demon-repelling stuff, as it could last about five hours total. He sure was glad about that. Any extra hour would have rendered him mad.

They walked back to the front desk. The same lady was now biting her nails at the desk.

“We’re done.”

“Oh, great. Good night, then. We’ll send in the money soon.”

“Goodbye.”

They walked out into the late night cold. The rain had stopped, but it was still damp, and the cold seized them by the marrow. Behind clouds, a three-quarter moon tentatively lit the way. They had to walk the way to the nearest night-serving bus stop.

It was Lance who first felt something wrong.

“You heard that?” He said to Keith.

“What?”

“I’m…not sure. I thought I heard something.”

“I have a bad feeling,” Keith whispered.

“Me too.”

They hastened their pace, not sure why, because in the end the bus would come at the time it would come. A swift shadow flew behind them.

They stopped. Keith took out a knife. They looked around in the darkness, trying to see what the heck was following them.

It hit Lance first, swiftly and abruptly, knocking him on the ground. Keith had no hesitation, he dropped the duffle bag and stabbed the thing in the ribs, knocking it off Lance and engaging in a rolling fight on the sidewalk. As soon as Lance had enough of his breath and mind back, he rushed towards the duffle bag, picking up a gun and ammo.

“Lance!” Keith cried out.

The thing was on top of him.

 “Hold on, I’m coming!” Lance yelled back.

He managed to load the gun, just in time to see the…Mr. Dawson? Hold the knife previously stuck in his rib to Keith’s throat.

He shot twice, and both shot hit Mr. Dawson, who got stunned for a few seconds, enough for Keith to get back on top. He bashed the man’s head on the concrete. He took back his knife, and sliced Mr. Dawson’s throat.

They both stood there in stunned silence for a while.

Slowly, Keith took his bloodied hand to his nose, sniffing.

“Werewolf,” he stated calmly.

“Demon?”

“The same one whose host we got rid of tonight. I didn’t know it could latch onto someone so close by.”

“Well, it’s definitely gone now.”

“It is.”

“Now we just have to get rid of the body.”

“…yeah.”

They both looked at the bloody corpse the sidewalk, then at each other.

Lance shook his head.

“This night I swear…”

\--

It was cold, riding the bus without their coats. Very cold. So, it wasn’t all that weird when they shuffled close to one another for warmth. Lance laid his head on Keith shoulder, lips blue.

“I need a drink and a warm bath,” he said, shivering.

“I have a shower and some alcohol at home,” Keith said.

Maybe it was the hypothermia talking, or the fact that getting rid of a body together built bonds even Keith could acknowledge, because he wasn’t really the type to invite anyone at his place. Yet, in this instant, it seemed natural that he did.

“Sounds good.”

Lance was dozing off.

“Hey, stay awake.”

“hm-hm,” Lance mumbled.

Keith wanted to doze off too, but he knew that it was a bad idea. The bus ride felt like it lasted forever. At last, they got dropped off near Keith’s apartment.

“Be at home,” Keith mumbled to Lance before they both walked in and sighed.

Keith immediately removed his shirt.

“Wo—” Lance said, not entirely following what was going on.

“Wet clothes are bad for keeping warm?”

“Oh--k,” Lance shrugged.

He really wasn’t all there.

“Y’know, I think you should go take a warm shower first. I’ll manage.”

Lance nodded, and, prompted by Keith, got his hands on a towel and ended up in the bathroom.

Keith sighed as he heard the water jet noise from the other side of the door. He took off the rest of his clothes, and wrapped himself with a warm blanket on the couch. He went through the events of the night in his head to stay awake.

All right. So, there was probably security footage of them walking around the hotel, but he wasn’t worried about it too much since they were wearing neutral clothing. The body was destroyed and hidden, there were few—if any—chances that it would be found and associated with them. He just had to burn their coats and the duffle bag, and he was pretty sure they could get away with murder. Sure, there was _some_ chances of them being associated with it, but, honestly, Keith barely existed legally, there was no evident motive, and the Undead Realm would have their backs if anything was to come up. Keith sighed, trying to calm his thoughts.

This bloody life was going to be the death of him.

He had a laugh, though, when the image of Lance, hands on his waist as they had just gotten rid of the body, trying to lighten up the mood with a:

“Hey, at least we make a good team.”

Lance got out of the bathroom, wearing the dry clothes Keith had lent him, still not fully warm, but at least looking like he was on the path to recovery.

“All right, I’m not going to lie to you, I’m in a desperate need for a drink.”

“The fridge is right there, go wild,” Keith said as he walked into the bathroom himself, still draped in his blanket.

So, Lance did. He picked up a beer, and, by the time Keith got out of the bathroom, he had been through three of them.  

“What is life,” he asked, his face seemingly trying to mold his face with the melamine table.

“Are you all right?” Keith asked.

“Was I ever?” Lance answered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Hold on, lemme check,” Lance said, standing up and hugging Keith.

“What are you doing?”

“Yep, I’m drunk. Just a little, though. Could be drunker.”

He didn’t let go of Keith. They stood there for a while, Lance humming over Keith’s back, shifting his weight from one foot to another, but not loosening his grip in the slightest.

“How long is this going to be?” Keith asked.

“Hmmm…about forty minutes. Or until I go get another drink.”

Keith sighed.

“I think I could go for a drink too,” he groaned.

That got Lance to release him. Though, instead of going for a beer—most of which Lance had already drank anyway, Keith reached in the cupboard above the fridge, he went straight for the whisky.

The oven clock said it was about four in the morning. This was a shitty hour even by nightdwellers standards. Outside was dark as shit, because, it was December, so of course it was.

Keith poured two glasses. They had the audacity to chin before chugging it down their throats.

The burn just felt good, like the best thing they had felt all night.

They helped themselves to a couple more shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool first date idea:   
> Go demon hunting and then hide a body.
> 
> I feel like my writing just keeps getting worse and the story even more aimless even though I have like, an ending and all. 
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoying this


	11. Wake me up (inside) before you go-go

Lance was running the streets of a city he couldn’t recognize. He knew he wanted to go home, so he took without thinking the bus to come. Shiro, dressed in full army getup, was the driver. Lance panicked when he searched for his bus pass and couldn’t find it, but Shiro smiled and nodded, saying it was all right. Lance sat at the back. He saw the unfamiliar streets go by for a while. Then, a very large bird—one maybe the size of a horse, crashed into the bus in a symphony of glass shards. It tried to attack Lance, calling him a liar, an impostor, a murderer and a thief. Lance escaped from the bus through the broken glass.

He ran the streets and back alleys, it was now nighttime. He felt closer to home—but maybe not. Suddenly, he ran into something. Or rather someone. For a second, he thought it could have been the bird, but then he lifted his head and it was Keith.

“Keith, I want to go home,” Lance almost cried.

Keith held both of his hands. There was something both comforting and frightening in that gesture.

“You can’t,” Keith said.

His breath was heavy on Lance’s face. The moment lingered. A warm feeling began to coil up inside of Lance, from his belly to his chest to his throat. Keith leaned in to kiss him. It felt great, intense and obliviating. Lance felt tears rolling down his cheeks. Warm, big tears—when he opened his eyes Keith was gone. Lance was standing alone, at either sunset or sunrise, waist deep in the water at the beach. He was still crying. He looked around, trying to see something, but there was nothing there. He pressed his hands against his face, trying to wipe away the tears, but it only got him to cry more. Then he saw his hands—red, covered in blood. He looked around in the water, and a dark patch of red was pooling around him, expanding and expanding…

When Lance opened his eyes, they were wet with tears. He tried sitting up, wiping them away with his hands, for real, this time. He didn’t know where he was. He was asleep on a couch, in an unfamiliar apartment, and…

The events of the night before came back to him, slowly at first, then all at once. He let his body fall back where it was with a “thump”. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed, and a sob came out of him. Then another. Before he knew it, he was ugly crying into a couch pillow. He didn’t even care that he was ruining Keith’s stuff with his snort, there was even a sort of satisfaction to it.

For a while, he considered crying until death ensued, by exhaustion or chocking on his own saliva, he didn’t care. He cried like a toddler, until he even forgot why.

But a good cry tends to wash away this excess of nonsense in the organism, like a spring cleaning of the mind, so his breathing eventually evened, and his pain eventually dimmed. He was okay now.

When that happened, he slumped his way to the bathroom to wash his face. The cool water helped. He lifted his head to look into the mirror. He couldn’t help but notice that something was off with the reflection, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on until…

The shock sent him back against the bathroom wall with a gasp. He dropped down, buried his face in his hands, and convulsed in a dry laugh.

“I have no reflection…of course I have no reflection…ha…hahaha…this sucks. I’m breaking the fucking laws of physics.”

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed until now. Or maybe it wasn’t a thing until recently? Honestly, he couldn’t even recall. He, who had a mirror in his bedroom and was known to occasionally flirt with his own reflection, couldn’t recall a single instance in the past month when he had looked or noticed his reflection anywhere. This was madness.

His mouth was dry and his head hurt, so he decided to take a shower even though he had one the night before. When he got out, he went to check if Keith was still asleep.

He still was. Curled up on his side in the bed, he caught Lance’s attention.

Lance crouched next to the bed, where he could see Keith’s face from up close. It looked so different when it was relaxed. Keith was quite attractive—the kind of guy for whom he had a hard time differentiating feelings of lust and envy. Who could blame him? How many times had he been snubbed by a girl he liked for a “bad boy” type like him? Okay, not many times, but still enough to keep him on edge.

Point was, he’d fuck Keith if it was an opportunity. Just being perfectly honest here. He knew that since the moment he first saw him, but it didn’t register at the time, and he believed he had kind of missed his shot now? He was used to establishing the possibility of romance as soon as he met someone. He sucked at flirting when there were actual feelings involved. It just made him afraid to lose someone crazy enough to enjoy his company.

There was an odd tightening in his chest at the thought.

Yeah, maybe—maybe, he was starting to get attached to Keith, in the kind of way which meant he thought about him all the time.

Lance got up. The red numbers on the bedside digital clock told him it was still early in the evening. It didn’t matter much, since even early evening was pitch black this time of year, but it explained why Keith was still asleep. He resisted the urge to do something stupid like drag his fingers through Keith hair, and got out of the apartment, heading for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, dreams. And feelings.


	12. Hideaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

When he got home, Lance fell asleep. He woke up in the morning.

It was one of these days which barely felt like one: the sun wouldn’t quite rise from behind its thick layer of clouds. The temperature walked a tight rope on the freezing point, teasing the possibility of snow with frost glazing the grass and greens. Not that there was much grass around where Lance lived anyway.

Lance got out of his apartment. He felt confident enough in the absence of sunlight to venture out like a groundhog in the spring, tentatively, afraid of casting a shadow.

It was odd, roaming the world at the same time as most people. Even if the streets were rather empty, the kind of grumpy, late winter morning feeling that could be read on faces was something he had missed.

He walked for a while, until he came across a breakfast restaurant and decided to go in.

It was about ten and a half, on a Tuesday, and the place was completely empty. The waitress seated him promptly, handing him a plasticized menu and filling a mug with the cheap coffee included with any meal.

It took him a long time to choose, as his eyes were fixing the wall in front of him and his mind was wandering through last night. Last morning. Whatever.

He and Keith had gotten pretty drunk. He—he didn’t do anything embarrassing, but Keith did talk about himself a lot. In semi-coherent rambles, muttering terms Lance didn’t understand like “rustblood” and “underling”. The things Lance _did_ understand, though, were kind of sad.

Keith went to a sort of boarding school, it seems. The school had taken him by “charity”, or rather to boost their reputation on the back of gifted poor students. It was like something pulled right out of the early twentieth century, with an abusive discipline and conservative mentality to boost.

Keith had gone on and on about the place, so much so that Lance could almost remember for himself the rot in the shower room and the morality lectures. But then, there was this huge gap in Keith’s story.

He’d skipped everything about his expulsion, and jump ahead to his fourteen-year-old self roaming aimlessly the streets of the city until he met Shiro.

This was another odd part: he met Shiro when he was fourteen, yet claimed to have been turned between six months and year ago, at least according to the slurred logic he had spouted. He had no details about the events, and the more Lance had questioned him, the more convoluted and nonsensical his story had gotten.

Lance wasn’t an idiot—he knew that there was a lie somewhere, and easy one at that, but he just couldn’t place it exactly. One of his theories was that Keith had been turned before being expelled, but then why not say it outright? Also, he knew that the transformation didn’t slow down aging until the mid-twenties, so, the timeline would still work.

There were holes in his theory, though, notably ones related to the numerous uses of the terms he didn’t understand, the ones mentioned way too much in the boarding school part of Keith’s story.

The things Lance knew about nosferats were way too few for him to make a judgement, but…could have Keith been born a vampire?

It sounded kind of crazy, what with the way he pictured in his mind nosferats like slightly more coherent versions of the thing he had watched die on the hotel bathroom floor, with the bloodshot eyes and strangled look and everything. Yes, he was conflating demons and nosferats, but with the way people spoke about nosferats, it only made sense to have them quite literally demonized. The only real argument he had for this theory was that it would make sense for Keith to hide it.

He was dabbing his scrambled eggs with his fork, trying to make sense of it all.

So, what if Keith _was_ a nosferat? It was weird to think of him this way, but, in the end…would it make a difference to him? Like, all right, Keith was born the way he was, big deal. Sure, he’d heard horrible things about nosferats, but, in the end, nothing he feared about them as a group he could apply to Keith. He wasn’t…turning people, or enslaving them.

So, really, his butthurt was more that, if he was right, then Keith didn’t trust him to have the good sense of not being an asshole, and that was a bit frustrating.

“Are you finished?”

The voice of the waitress pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I, uh, yeah, sure.”

She took the plate from him, and brought him the bill. He left her a gracious tip and walked out.

He didn’t want to go home just yet. He’d seen the date on his phone, it was December 20th, and that meant it was almost Christmas. He really hadn’t seen it coming, despite the ads he was constantly seeing that tried to pull him into the spirit. Well, this morning, he was into the spirit. Even if he couldn’t go home for Christmas, and had invented some bullshit excuse to his mom about it. He could still, like, decorate his apartment. And give something to Keith. Also, Allura and Hunk. Hell, even Shiro. He didn’t know what Shiro liked, but, whatever, he could try.

There were two boulevards close to his place. One was the one where the Altea café was, all fancy and expensive, across which Shiro’s neighborhood began, and the other was opposite; up north, the street was one of those which used to be really cool and filled with specialized stores until the internet came along, and now it had been appropriated by newcomers and low-income shoppers, the sidewalks littered with cigarette butts leading the way in front of thrift shops, tacky dress shops, dollar stores and a handful of brave novelty stores which would inevitably die out in a few years, whether from lack of customers, or from having contributed to a gentrification that would, in turn, swallow them as well. For now, though, the boulevard was somewhat of a haven.  Yes, a haven with people begging on every corner, and stores caught in an endless loop of closing sales, but a haven nonetheless. One hella good place to make deals, too.

Hunk was the first to have his gift found. A super-adorable dinosaur ladle. What more could be asked of life? For Allura, he went from store to store. He knew enough about her to be able to find something which would please her, but at the same time he couldn’t tell between two similar options which one would be the best. Like, he found earrings that would just be perfect, but did she have her ears pierced? He couldn’t remember. In the end, he found a cool-looking hourglass in the miscellaneous section of a thrift shop, and decided it would just match her interior design perfectly. Shiro earned himself a “night owl” mug. Did he like cartoon owls? Did he like lame jokes about his nocturnal lifestyle? Did he drink coffee? Who knew, but it was a safe enough bet.

Now, for Keith. Lance wanted to give him something he’d like, y’know, to show he had value that neither his upbringing nor his possible birth status could rob from him. And, also, to show that Lance cared about him. Not too much though, like, he didn’t want to make it weird. Besides, Keith didn’t feel like a gift guy. He seemed like the kind of guy who would not let you pay for his coffee no matter how much you insisted.

What did Keith like?

He liked…guns and knives. He liked his motorcycle. He did drink, but Lance was still a few months short of being able to buy him that.

Y’know, when he put things related to Keith like that, it really made him sound like some kind of rough n’ tough bad boy, which, he was…but also not? Like, he could be really silly at times, it felt like this whole threatening act was more something his life had naturally led him to rather than something he had chosen. He was nice. Keith was nice. An emotional, wreck, yes, but then again, a cool dude. Heart in the right place. Also, hot. But that was irrelevant to the gift giving.

He roamed the streets a bit more. Entered shops, searched the aisles, without the slightest idea what he was looking for. That is until he found it.

He grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens. yet again.


	13. All I want for christmas

 

Keith watched Lance prance around the room with what he imagined to be an exasperated look. Nonetheless, he was happy to be here, the idea to have a Christmas party was a good one.

They were all gathered into the Altéa café’s back room, which actually also served as Allura’s living room. In one corner, Pidge was playing DS, while Allura and Shiro, wine in hand, were politely discussing god-knows-what. Probably taxes. Lance was trying to find the most aesthetically pleasant way to arrange the homemade decorations on the small, last-minute tree.

Hunk had generously contributed food, that was now sitting in large tupperwares and pyrex dishes on the coffee table. He may not have been able to attend, but at least he was there in spirit. Keith was munching on a rice crispies square when Lance slumped besides him, sighing.

“Well, I guess it’s the best that can be done with the available materials. I would have added some extra _razzle dazzle,_ but, hey, as long as I’m there, this party can’t be lacking it.”

“yeah, right,” Keith said.

He felt a bit awkward towards Lance ever since that drunken night he had clearly overshared his feelings.

“I, um, the hotel management never ended up paying us since the man who was in charge of the transaction, uh, well y’know, but the undead realm compensated for our troubles anyway. it’s less than the agreed upon amount, but Pidge can still send you half of it.”

“Oh, uh, that’s…nice. But, really, why are we talking about this right now? It’s time to party, man, not talk business!”

“Um, ok.”

“Let’s play a game! There’s this one we used to play with my family, it’s really simple, but also quite though. We call it the politician game. Basically, we all go around discussing, and asking each other questions, except no one can answer anything with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or anything equivalent like ‘yeah’ ‘nah’ ‘uh-uh’ or ‘ok’. I like to play hard mode where ‘I have’ and ‘I have not’ are forbidden as well. The last one who hasn’t been eliminated wins.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well, for example, if I ask you ‘do you like spaghetti’ you can’t answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you have to invent something more complex, like ‘I do like spaghetti’ or ‘I don’t know, do you?’”

“I think I get it,” Pidge said, sneaking from behind them. “Sounds fun. Hey! Allura! Shiro!”

They interrupted their discussion to look at Pidge.

“Did you hear what Lance said?”

“I don’t think so,” Allura answered.

Pidge explained the game.

“Sounds delightful,” Allura grinned, then turned to Shiro.

“I’m in,” the latter shrugged.

“Alright!” Lance yelled, both arms in the air. “The game has started now!”

“Hey Pidge,” he said. “What game were you playing five minutes ago?”

“Final Fanatasy IV”

“Is it fun?”

Pidge squinted.

“It is fun indeed. Have you played it?”

“I did, but I did not finish it,” Lance admitted. “have you, Keith?’

“No, I did not play that game.” he said.

“You lost,” Lance stated.

“What?”

“You said the forbidden word!”

“I…dammit.” Keith frowned. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Too bad,” Lance shrugged. “You can still ask people questions, though.”

“Let me try,” Allura grinned. “ Hey, Lance, have you tried the devilled eggs Hunk made? They’re lovely.”

“I’m going to try them right now. They do look delicious.”

He took one from the plate and ate it.

“Aren’t they just great?”

“They are indeed,” Lance answered carefully.

“Pidge, won’t you hand me one please?”

“yeah, sure,” Pidge said, leaning over the table to hand one to Allura.

Allura smirked deviously at Pidge.

“Argh!!!! You devil!” Pidge yelled.

Lance nodded in approbation.

“The bait and switch strategy,” he said. “A classic. Well played, Allura, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you,” Allura said.

“Shiro, can you believe this?” Keith said.

“I don’t need to believe it,” Shiro said. “I can see it very well.”

They continued to exchange banter and traps for a while. Shiro got eliminated next, and he shrugged it off with a casual laugh. Allura and Lance were going in for the long haul, Lance carrying all his years of experience with family members, and Allura cleverly dodging all traps with admirable diplomatic dexterity.

“Damn, have you considered going into politics?” Lance eventually asked her.

She laughed.

“I did consider it,” she said. “but there are few political circles that I know where I would belong. As a witch…”

“What about the Society of Covens?”  
“If the Society of Covens was still what it used to be…” she said, evasive but surprisingly sincere. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Lance, are you single?” Pidge asked.

“Sadly…” Lance answered.

“…but not surprisingly.”

“Hey!”

Lance turned to Keith.

“If he wasn’t dead, I think I would murder him.”

“I’m a girl,” Pidge dropped.

Lance’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head.

“No! I can’t believe it! …and to think all this time I figured…”

“You lost,” Keith said.

“I won!” Allura punched in the air triumphantly. “Where is my prize?” she asked jokingly.

“Hey, it wasn’t fair!” Lance protested.

“Life isn’t fair,” Keith smirked.

Lance pouted.

Keith though that Lance was right. This game _was_ fun. The fun being in seeing the person who defeated you be defeated.

“Are we going for another round?” Pidge asked.

“Nuh-uh, it’s time for gifts!” Lance said.

“You’re the only one who brought gifts.”

“I know,” Lance shrugged.

He crawled to the tree, and threw a package at Pidge.

“Merry Christmas,” he said as she caught it.

She unwrapped it.

“Oh, cool, earphones,” she said in the same tone of voice as if she had unwrapped socks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what you wanted, kind of figured out last minute that you would be here at all. I still don’t get that whole ghost nonsense, by the way.”

“Me neither,” Pidge said. “I appreciate the effort anyway,” she smiled.

Lance had a moment of silence, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Lance?” Keith asked.

“Uh?”

“Well, weren’t you going to continue giving stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just. Zoned out for a second there.”

The second and third package were for Shiro and Allura. They both appreciated the gifts and swore they would repay him somehow. Lance smiled, but it was a weird, waned smile. It faded quickly, as he swallowed and stared into the distance.

“I think I have to go to the bathroom,” he said standing up suddenly.

He walked away.

“What’s with him?” Keith asked.

“What do you mean?” Pidge said.

“He was acting weird. Didn’t you notice he was acting weird?”

“Now that you say it, yeah,” Allura said.

“Maybe he ate too much,” Shiro suggested.

“yeah, maybe,” Keith said.

They waited awkwardly a bit for him to come back. After a while, it was obvious that he wasn’t just taking a shit.

“I’m going to see if he’s okay,” Allura suggested, as the others nodded.

She didn’t come back quickly either.

Keith eyed the last wrapped good under the tree. It was about three inches per three inches, and it got him curious. He didn’t like opening gifts in public, so, this moment in which Pidge was checking her phone and Shiro was carefully inspecting the leftovers of the food on the table was perfect for him to reach his arm and turn the package over in his hands.

Since there was no reaction from the two other people in the room, he dared to rip the paper just a little bit. Then all at once.

It was a brown unlabelled box. He opened it.

It was a watch. Or a watch-like thing, as half of the space usually dedicated to telling the time had a speaker on it. It was all black except for a red line that circled it. The design was oddly familiar, though he couldn’t exactly say why.

There was a note with it. It read:

_Walkie-talkie watch, for when we go on missions ;)_

_I mean, it could be completely useless, but I thought it was cool_

_Like a spy thing. It’s better quality than anything I’ve had as a kid though_

_Anyway, you better wear it or I’ll kick your ass. I even got you the red one to match your bike._

_I got the blue one because I’m good cop. And blue is the light side of the force. If that makes any sense at all. Anyway, what’s the purpose of being a supernatural rogue vigilante duo if we don’t even have theme going on? There would be no purpose is the answer._

_Anyway, here you go Mullet (that’s your codename)_

_Signed, either sharpshooter or loverboy, (I haven’t decided which I wanted to be my codename yet)_

It wasn’t consciously that, upon reading those lines, Keith smiled. No, it wasn’t consciously, because otherwise he would have been extremely embarrassed of the completely ostentatious display of fondness that this smile was.

\--

Lance’s evening had begun well. Hanging out at the back of the café usually comforted him. Having busied himself in the last few days to arrange this party had kept him in a good mood. Playing games, he had almost forgot where he was supposed to be on this evening, almost forgot that this was but a mere _compensation_ for things he couldn’t have.

But it caught up to him. It caught up to him all at once, like a dam breaking. He got pushed off an edge he wasn’t even leaning over five minutes prior.

So, he locked himself in Allura’s bathroom and cried. He alternated between face crunches and loud sobs, he cried trying to restrain himself, ashamed, trying to pull himself back together and failing. He cried until a knock on the door happened, and a worried voice asked,

“Are you okay?”

His first instinct was to say yes. His first instinct was to say “of course, everything is swell, I’ll be back down in a sec,” but for some reason he didn’t give into his instincts.

He stayed silent for a while. He dug a path between his mind and his vocal chords, gathering up courage, tearing walls down. He accepted the fact that he was currently saying nothing.

“Lance?” The voice reiterated.

“No,” he said.

“No?”

“I’m not okay. I…want…I want…”

There was the silence again.

“I want to go home,” he launched in a breath, feeling immediately stupid for saying that.

Allura answered nothing, but he felt her press her head against the door. He felt her just thinking.

The silence was heavy and clunky, it felt like they should say something, break it, fuck it up real bad. That kind of silence was painful as an uncomfortable stretch. But it also kind of was necessary.

“But I can’t.” Lance said. “It’s a twenty-hour drive, and I don’t have a car, and I can’t make sure I won’t face sunlight. And I don’t know what I’d tell my mom, I just…I don’t know. But I want to go home anyway.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“You…what?”

“I have the minivan; the back can block light. We can alternate to drive. We can leave tomorrow evening.”

“Why would you do this?”

“Lance, if I could go back to my family, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for it. I don’t care you don’t know what you’re going to say to your parents. You’ll find a way. If you want to go, I’ll get you there. Are you in?”

Lance sniffed with a laugh.

“Allura, I have no idea how I can not be madly in love with you.”

The silence that followed had something different in it.

“…maybe one day I’ll explain,” Allura said, a touch sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, distress in bathrooms is the just the most relatable thing to me. Also, I've really accidentally set up some really good allurance in this story. They're gonna stay platonic tho. Allura shot herself in the foot with that one. But I really like their dynamic. So they going on a roadtrip. 
> 
> This is exactly where I'm sure you thought the plot was going.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment to tell me what you thought!


End file.
